Silhouette Man

Silhouette 3Walking down the aisle between two rows of our housing containers, camouflage netting eight feet above the ground, connecting the rows, giving it the appearance of an indoor hallway, I could barely see the outline of a man sitting on the steps in front of his door.

It was late, and I was returning to my hooch dog-tired. I’d been to the medical clinic several times to visit that day’s wounded. I’d been to three or four work areas to encourage, counsel, or pray, depending on what people wanted and needed. The last thing I wanted was to get into another conversation. I just wanted to go inside, lock the door, fall on my bed, and turn off the world for a few hours. Forget brushing my teeth and showering. Maybe tomorrow. What caught my eye in the moonless night, was the burning, circular tip of a cigarette.

I greeted the silhouette. “How’s it going?”

A voice behind the glow responded. “Survived another day.”

“Sometimes that’s all we can ask for,” I mumbled.

I unlocked my door, walked inside, turned on the light, dropped my body armor and helmet onto the floor, turned out the light, and crashed-landed on the bed. Almost asleep, I heard a knock. Being in that not-quite-asleep, not-quite-awake nether world, I wasn’t sure whether there was someone at the door, or I was already dreaming. When I heard it again, I got up, opened the door, and saw the cigarette and the silhouette.

Chacos 1“Are you the chaplain?”

“Yes.”

“Can we talk?”

I felt like saying, “C’mon dude. Give me a break.” Instead, what came out of my mouth was, “Sure. Let me get some sandals on and I’ll be right out.”

I sat on the stoop across the hall as he lit up another cigarette and asked, “Mind if I smoke?”

I grinned, assuming he couldn’t see my face any better than I could see his. He was going to light up no matter what I answered. “Nope. Go ahead.”

The average smoker spends five-and-a-half minutes per cigarette, and the next time Silhouette Man spoke, he was on his fourth Marlboro. I wondered if he knew I had fallen asleep two or three times. It had to be past two in the morning.

“I was a cop for thirty years and saw some pretty interesting things.” He paused for half-a-cigarette. “But for the first time in my life, I’m scared.”

“What’s been happening?”

“We have two shifts. Early and late; I’m on the late shift, working from two PM til about midnight every day. Plus an hour to get there and an hour back. We go into town to the police station to teach the IP how to do their jobs. We send people to all the stations. I think there are about thirty IP stations in Diwaniyah. Most of our team is Army MPs, but there are a few civilian cops on each team. Most of us retired.”Cigarette 1

He lit another cigarette and continued.

“The station where I work is a two-story building surrounded by those huge apartment buildings – fifteen, twenty stories tall. The break area at the IP station is on the roof-top. You know how the men will drive over to the field on their way to work or during lunch or on their way home and shoot off the mortars?”

“Yeah.”

“They do that to us with rifles. They sit up in those apartments like snipers, waiting for one of us to be visible in a window, or when we go on the roof for a break, and they start firing at us. We’re trapped. We’ve been shot at every day for the past three weeks.

“This afternoon I was on the roof. It had been a pretty quiet day until a little after four when the shooting started. I dove for the parapet that surrounds the roof-top patio, using the wall to try to protect myself. The two guys next to me were killed. One American cop like me, retired, from Cincinnati I think. One Iraqi. Several downstairs in the main part of the building were shot, too. Injured; none killed. I felt so powerless, so defenseless. We’re like sitting ducks waiting for the slaughter. It’s starting to get to me.”

I hurt for this faceless guy from Philadelphia. I wanted to move over, sit next to him, and put an arm around him, but then I thought that might seem weird to a total stranger, especially a career policeman. Maybe after we got to know each other I’d have that opportunity. So I asked him a question. “When do you get back here at night?”

“It’s usually a little after 1:00. 1:30, maybe.”

“Would it be helpful for me to be here when you get back so you have someone to talk to about what you just went through?”

“Yeah. I think it would. I’d like that.”

So I started waiting up for him most nights, letting him set the agenda for what we talked about.

One night, all of a sudden he asked, “Where do the priests get all those stories about Jesus?”

“They get them from the New Testament.”

Bible2“No! You mean they come from the Bible?” He’d never heard that before.

“Yep. Would you like me to get you a Bible?”

“Yeah, I would.”

 

Gotcha!

44 Paul after PromotionEarly in my military career, I showed up at a new infantry battalion one day and started meeting some of the guys. The Sergeant Major introduced himself and asked, “Hey Chaplain, do you have your Gotcha Cards?”

“No, Sergeant Major. I’ve never heard of a Gotcha Card, and don’t know what it is, so I’m pretty sure I don’t have one. What is it?”

“Our previous chaplain, every time he heard one of us cuss or swear or use the Lord’s name in vain would pull out a business card, but all it said in big bold letters was Gotcha. So when the guys heard we were getting a new chaplain, they started wondering if you were going to be like the last one.”

“I bet you guys hated him.”

“Yes. We. Did.”

“Tell you what. I’m not planning on having any Gotcha Cards printed up, so you can relax. Cuss if you want. I’m just here to love you guys.”

Apparently, a bunch of Soldiers were listening to the conversation, because as soon as I made that last statement, a cheer erupted from around the corner.

“You’re gonna fit in fine here, Chaps. Nice to have you aboard.”

Over the next two years, I led more than 25 of those guys to faith in Christ, and I never once said, “Gotcha.” Oh they cussed, alright. But I figure it’s the Holy Spirit’s job to reach them, and he does a pretty good job. I just had to do my part, which was love them and be consistent in setting an example of what a Christian is and does.

Personal Info

Paul 1

After serving as a pastor, I went into the Army as a chaplain. Now retired from the military, I’m teaching writing at Southeastern University in Lakeland, FL. My wife (Linda) is a literature professor at Southeastern University, and chair of the Department of Humanities. We have three sons and eight grandchildren. We love dogs, and currently have a tri-color beagle. Personal interests include movies and plays, music, travel, sports, and games. And reading, of course!

Throwback Thurs 1When I was a kid, my brothers and sister and I would tell stories, making them up on the fly. We wrote poetry – well, more like silly rhymes – and produced plays and skits. As an adult, I told stories to my children and wrote poems for family events such as reunions, birthdays, and holiday get-togethers. I’ve published a half dozen or so articles in religious and military magazines.

Knowing that I wanted to start writing seriously after getting out of the Army, I started reading books on writing by Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, and Elizabeth George. I read William Zinsser, Francine Prose, PD James, and many others. Each writer taught me something.

In 2006, My wife and I were at a Barnes & Noble on a Friday night in Atlanta. After getting a Frappuccino and Chai Tea Latte, we separated to browse. That’s when I discovered Josip Novakovich’s book, Writing Fiction Novakoviche's BooksStep By Step. I bought it, read it, then went back to get his Fiction Writer’s Workshop. After reading the second book, I prayed that someday I would meet the man and study writing under his tutelage. Seven years later, living in Florida, I inquired about the MFA at the University of Tampa and discovered that he was one of the fly-in teachers for the program. Josip has been my writing mentor the past two years – a literal answer to prayer. I had a dual focus of Fiction and Non-Fiction because I write in multiple genres. Two other key mentors were Don Morrill and John Capouya. John was my guide in the writing of the thesis.

The MFA thesis was a book about my military ministry experience in Iraq.CH 1 My doctoral dissertation, which I hope to put into book form, was on the Biblical Principles of Marriage. Linda and I plan to write a companion devotional book for couples along the same themes. Plus, I have a collection of stories about interracial experiences I’ve had starting when I was a kid in Boston and then in Charleston. Those are my first four book projects. I also hope to prepare shorter pieces such as articles, short stories, and microfiction along the way.

There are several reasons why I write:

To Influence: There are so many people who have no clue how to make a marriage work. Many don’t know how to parent effectively. Others don’t know how to live their lives meaningfully and productively. Many Christians don’t seem to know how to live a godly life. I think I have something to offer, and hope to influence people towards happy, successful, effective Christianity and relationships.

To Entertain: In the same way good teaching and preaching must be interesting and fun, good writing has to have an entertainment quality as well. St. Paul wrote that we should speak the truth in love. I would add this: we should also be eloquent, interesting, and fun. Adding these values gets the message across and makes it memorable, increasing the impact on our readers.

To Inspire: Throughout my life as a pastor and a chaplain, I’ve had the privilege of building friendships with people, and then from that relationship encourage them in their journey of faith. It’s now my desire to do that through my writing – to help people develop a relationship with Jesus Christ, to understand the Bible better, and to be more effective in their personal and public life.

Because It’s Fun: Writing is a lot of fun, something I really enjoy. Sure, it can be hard work. But to get an idea for a story or an inspirational piece and then to watch it take shape in front of me is just a lot of fun. I even enjoy editing, refining, and rewriting.

Because I Sense a Calling: As I prayed about what the Lord would want me to do when I got out of the Army, I specifically felt the Lord saying he wanted me to preach, teach, mentor, and write. Therefore, I want to be as good at each of these tasks as I can be.

The Safest Place in Iraq

CH 1While deployed to a small coalition-led Forward Operating Base as a chaplain in the spring and summer of 2007, I experienced the danger of war, the loneliness of being away from home, and the exhilaration of watching up close as God answered prayer, changed lives, and performed miracles. After asking to go to Iraq, I was assigned to Camp Echo, just outside the city of Ad Diwaniyah. There hadn’t been a chaplain there during three years of war. I had to start from scratch and lay a foundation for ministry.

Heat, danger, dust, and death formed the context for the ministry I was sent to do. My job was to establish a religious program. There was no chapel, no office, no phone, and no internet connection designated for a Religious Support Team. There were no Bibles, literature, or supplies. Operating from my philosophy that “ministry follows friendship,” I built relationships among the men and women, military and civilian, American and Coalition. This allowed me to be there when people were at their best and at their worst, in their strongest and weakest moments.

The Safest Place in Iraq is the story of what happened in my life and theirs. Drawing on personal experience, I created a narrative of war that is different than you’ve ever heard or read.