Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PROTECT (04/16/20)
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TITLE: Under Wings of Hope | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
04/19/20 -
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Within minutes the muffled all-clear sounded and Disney started to explore his new world. He was alive – that much was evident. The fire shooting up his right leg blasted a warning message to his brain before he tried to move. His left side and arm responded slowly to his commands to flex and move. His mouth and nose sheltered under a filter resembling feathers.
His fingers curled up and touched the object. It was definitely feathers - a chicken. A verse his brother shared that morning chimed in his mind, “Surely, he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers.” He didn’t know about being saved from the fowler’s snare but he knew he’d been snared by the fowl. But what else had protected him? The next words rang in his ears. “You will not fear the terror of night nor the arrow that flies by day.”
Garbled voices mumbled their way into his vicinity. The chicken was gently pulled away and the face of his sergeant pressed down close to his. “Hey, Dis,” she said. “What say I give you a once over before we try to move you. That leg looks like it needs some TLC.”
The great weight was eased off his back and legs but a hand pressing his shoulder down kept him still. “Give us a few minutes to stitch and bind that limb, Dis,” the sergeant said. Looks like you might get a free trip to see your family sooner than you thought.” She wiped the dirt off his nose and cheeks, ran her fingers through the hair above his ears, and eased his helmet out of the way. “Tell me about that girl of yours waiting to give you a hug and smooch.”
“T’aint no girl awaiting,” he said. “Part from my brother Hank, I got no one.”
“Tell me about Hank,” sarge continued. “Is he older? Is he a believer like you?”
“Yessir, sarge. Hank runs the mess tent across the way and he’s been a believer long as I can remember.” He tried to push up but sarge kept a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “From the time I was young he’s been watching out for me.”
The medics finished binding the leg, patched up his arm and then carefully rolled him onto a stretcher. The swirl of dust filled the compound and sarge covered his face with a mask. “Tell me more about this brother. Some kind of chef traipsing out here to feed you with momma’s cooking.”
Dis shielded his eyes, resting his wrist on his forehead. “Sarge, the mess tent didn’t get hit, did it?”
“No sir, the grub is still there sticking to those metal trays like glue.”
“Funny thing, sarge. Hank was going to give the crew a chicken dinner today. I should have had someone give him that chicken sitting on my face.”
The world started swaying as the medics jogged him toward a waiting ambulance. Dis raised his good arm. “Sarge, tell Hank where I’m going. He’d want to know.”
Sarge stepped into the ambulance with him and laid a hand on his head. “Dis, I think Hank is the one who wants you to know where he’s going.”
“I hope they aren’t reassigning him. He just got here a week ago.”
“No, Dis,” Sarge said. “They aren’t reassigning him, ever.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dis, you know how you said your big brother has always been protecting you?”
“Ya.”
“Well, he kept that up right until today.” Sarge tightened the oxygen mask. “He’s the one who jumped on you to save you from the missile fragments. Dis, your brother will be waiting for you in heaven.”
That last day of battle rocked his nights for years. One day, while watching chickens, his brother's voice reverberated loud and clear. “Under his wings you will find refuge.” It was then, hope and faith slowly resurrected.
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