P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

AFRAID TO FIGHT

Have you gotten the impression in recent months that from a U.S. point of view, war is kind of an “easy” thing? Someone deep within the bowels of a protected bunker simply hits a few computer keys, an unmanned drone out in space digitally “paints” a target, and a few seconds later a smart bomb whizzes in and, with a margin of error of maybe 18 inches, obliterates said target. It’s clean, it’s hi-tech Star Wars of the most antiseptic kind, and nothing to really get scared over.

Well, there was an L.A. Times front-page story going back to August 26, 2003, which turns that casual perception right on its head. Entitled “A Deadly Day for Charlie Company,” it relates, in terrifying detail, a Sunday in March, four days into the assault on Baghdad. Eighteen coalition forces perished in the fierce firefights that took place in a long, bloody day . . . a hailstorm of bullets and shrapnel.

This particular military outfit had orders to capture the Saddam Canal Bridge in the northern part of Nasiriyah. The positive news was that Bravo Company, another Marine unit, was supposed to go with them. And twelve M1-A1 tanks were going to lead the way.

Well, Bravo’s vehicles all got stuck in the mud east of Nasiriyah and weren’t able to get there. That’s 200 soldiers out of action just like that. Then the tanks were sent elsewhere to rescue the Army’s 507th Maintenance Company, which had taken a wrong turn earlier that morning. You might remember a pretty soldier named Jessica Lynch? The tanks went to save that situation, and who could blame them. But all at once, Charlie Company was going to hit the three-mile stretch called “Ambush Alley” all by its lonesome.

So they got going. “Eight Ball, Oscar Mike” was the go signal, and the “tracks,” the soldiers’ tub-shaped assault vehicles, began to roll across the Euphrates River. Charlie Company’s motto was “keep moving,” especially with a soon-setting sun as an always dangerous deadline.

Just across the bridge, there was an innocent-looking group of Iraqis that seemed to be waving a white-flag welcome to the oncoming soldiers. Then all at once, all hell broke loose. Bullets were coming at them from rooftops, from around the corners of buildings, from machine-gun nests tucked away in side streets. “We saw women shooting at us,” says Captain Daniel Wittnam. “We saw children shooting at us.” But nobody in a uniform. And the lead was just raining down on them from everywhere. Iraqi soldiers, Fedayeen Saddam militiamen, Baath Party loyalists. And the enemy was toting RPGs – rocket-propelled grenades – which the coalition forces immediately discovered went right through the thin armor plating of their “tracks.” There went the alleged “superpower advantage” they had thought they possessed.

And just like that, these soldiers, these kids – 19, 22, 24 years old, some known mostly for their skateboarding and snowboarding skills back home – were looking death right in the face. The Iraqis had mortar positions established, and had the Americans outnumbered. All the men could do was fire away defensively, watching the incoming shells land closer and closer. Finally Hussein’s loyalists found their range, and nine U.S. troops died.

Machine gunners ran to get more ammo, and were cut down by artillery rounds. A young Thai immigrant named Corporal Kemaphoom Chanawongse, 22 years old, sacrificed his life for his adopted new country. Just then an American Air Force A-10 Thunderbolt, also known as a Warthog, flew over . . . and inadvertently began blistering the U.S. forces with “friendly fire” from its 30-mm Gatling gun and its Maverick and Sidewinder missiles. The soldiers, screaming and hoisting American flags and firing flares, endured several strafing runs before the confused pilot seemed to understand. But one more Marine, and maybe as many as five others, perished in the accidental attack.

And a young man named Killeen was sure it was all over. He was a Florida kid, a weightlifter, and now, pinned down in a swamp under the bridge, there were Iraqi soldiers so close to him he could hear them talking. “I thought they were going to sandwich us,” he said later. “I figured my life was all over.” And just then there was a rumble of more incoming tanks. If they belonged to Saddam Hussein, that was going to be it for Killeen and his fellow GIs. But as they peeked out, they saw the U.S. markings. The rescue tanks were pounding the enemy with their 120-millimeter guns and driving them to cover. And this young warrior said later to anyone who would listen, “It was the best feeling in the world.”

Is that a scary story? Yeah. It’s hard to imagine such relentless fear, the specter of a bloody death in a foreign land – and thank God for the courage of those who risk their lives to defend freedom and the existence of innocent victims. But as we retreat to the pages of the Bible, and read about battles that may not have the AAVP7A1 armored amphibious vehicles but were certainly as bloody as March 23, 2003, we find that stouthearted men even back then were afraid of cruel steel and deadly arrows.

We’ve moved now from Judges chapter six to chapter seven, and Gideon has just gotten two fleece signals from God – once wet, then again dry. Now he’s looking at the recruits getting off the buses at Camp Lejeune – actually the spring of Harod, near the hill of Moriah – and it’s a good turnout. Thirty-two thousand men have lined up to be outfitted with clean socks and assault rifles. Just across the river, though, is a huge enemy army: three or four times the size of Gideon’s band of merry men. Here’s verse two:

“The Lord said to Gideon, ‘You have too many men for Me to deliver Midian into their hands. In order that Israel may not boast against Me that her own strength has saved her, announce now to the people, ‘Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead.’”

And Gideon goes: “What? I’m not going to say that!” Or I imagine he must have WANTED to protest to God. Who’s scared to go into battle? Anybody with a brain is scared! Nobody wants to face death. Back a few months earlier – and we mentioned this on a broadcast – Newsweek magazine had a story entitled “Fear at the Front.” Reporter Evan Thomas tells us that, throughout history, it’s taken the pill of alcohol and the threats of officers to get men out onto the battlefield. Up to three fourths of all soldiers are just plain too scared to ever fire their weapons in combat. They curl up, they go into shock, they get “dry mouth,” they gag, they wet their pants. It is a scary thing to know that you stand a good chance of dying TODAY, before the sun goes down, and perhaps in a lingering, violent way.

And this is an interesting thing. Back in the days of Israel, it was standard procedure, before marching as to war, for the General Pattons of that era to let men off the hook if they’d just bought a new house. Or planted a new vineyard. Or married a new wife. And then they were to even say to the entire platoon: “Anybody scared? If you are, just pick up and go home right now.” Why did they do this? Deuteronomy 20:8:

“Is any man afraid or fainthearted? Let him go home so that his brothers will not become disheartened too.”

So if there was anybody in the ranks without a gung-ho, “Hoo-ahh!” attitude, better to get them out of the tank and back home to Mama so they don’t hurt the morale of the others. One wonders how there was ever an army at all. But here in Judges chapter seven, Gideon has to be saying to God: “Please, no! The enemy’s already got us four to one. Lord, I make a speech like that and we might as well start putting ‘In Baal we trust’ on our dollar bills, ‘cause there won’t be any army left at all.” The Adventist Bible Commentary makes that very point; listen:

“The proclamation was a part of the announcement Moses had commanded to be made prior to a battle inviting the fearful to leave the ranks lest their desertion in the midst of battle cause others to flee too. Because his army was so small in comparison with that of the Midianites, Gideon had refrained from making the usual proclamation.”

But now, at God’s insistence, Gideon gets up on a little chair and says, “Uh, men, may I have your attention for a second?” And about ten seconds later, most of the men are gone. Out of an army of thirty-two thousand men, twenty-two thousand of them split and go back to their day jobs. There’s a dust cloud on the Harod Highway that doesn’t settle down for about a week.

And then God says an amazing thing to Gideon: “Still too big. Your army is still too big.” Gideon says: “What army? All I see here is a retreating dust cloud. We don’t have enough men left to field a decent football team.” “I know,” says God. “But if these ten thousand men beat the Midianites, they’ll think it was them. Not Me.”

And by the time God is finished trimming the troops down to His chosen size, there are just 300 ragtag men left. NOW Gideon’s got something to be scared about.

Unless he remembers who his Commander-in-chief is.