[nefertiti]

Hi people.Hope you are all sawa sawa.This story is quite long for those of you who haven't read it,but i thought it would worth some of your time.




For 24 years one Vietnam veteran tried to escape his past. He could never forgive himself for his part in injuring an innocent girl.Then came...
THE MEETING AT THE WALL
by John Plummer
Purcellville, Virginia



I was back in my living room reading a book with the television on low. It was a warm, pleasant June evening in 1996, and I was glad to have some time to myself.
Then a photo flashed on the screen, an image that had haunted me for years. No matter how often I saw it, the pain came back to me. How could I be forgiven? How could I even speak of my part in it? A little Vietnamese girl running toward the camera, arms outstretched, screaming hysterically from terrible napalm burns. This Pulitzer prize-winning photo had wrung the hearts of millions, but it was particularly wrenching for me: I was the one responsible for the girl's agony.
I leaned forward and turned up the volume. The reporter revealed that the girl, Phan Thi Kim Phuc, was married and living in Toronto. She's alive, I thought with gratitude. My thoughts went back to 1972, when I was a US Army ccaptain stationed in Vietnam. Assigned to the G3 air staff of the Third Regional Assistance Command (TRAC), I targeted B-52 strikes, planning and coordinating fighter-jet support for ground troops. If a unit was in trouble I was called to provide air support for them - and fast.
That spring, from my post in a command bunker I was speaking by radio with a US advisor to a South Vietnamese unit that was trying to take the town of Trang Bang. "We need help immediately," the advisor reported tersely. Viet Cong were dug in near them. He gave me target coordinates.
After studying the map I was puzzled. "This is right on the edge of the village," I said. "What about the friendlies?" That was the term for allied civilians.
"There are no friendlies," he said. "They're all out. Evacuated."
I knew the best munitions for entrenched enemy were napalm and high-explosive bombs. Since the target was close to our troops, I wanted the most accurate means of delivery. I located a South Vietnamese air unit with A-37 and A-1E attack aircraft.
But I was still concerned. To make doubly sure I checked witht he district headquarters. "What's the friendly situation down there?"
"All the villages have left."
I radioed approval and about five minutes later the advisor reported, "Bombs right on target; our ground troops are moving in."
A routine mission, I thought. I had done it dozens of times.
Three days later I headed into the mess hall and grabbed a copy of The Stars and Stripes, the military newspaper, from the stack at the door. I got my food, sat down, picked up my coffee and opened the paper. A heartbreaking photograph stared out at me. A nine-year-old girl running from fire. The accompanying article said she was burned as a result of a air strike on the village of Trang Bang.
The attack I had called.
My hand shook and hot coffee splashed on the table. For a moment I was almost unable to breathe. A tablemate stared at me. I mumbled, "That's the strike I put in."
That twas the one and only time I ever mentioned the invident in Vietnam. Nobody questioned me about it and I tried to push it out of my mind. But the guilt - the horrible, soul-crushing guilt- festered. I didn't see a chaplain because I had long since given up on church. When I returned to the States the photo seemed to be everytwhere, in magazines, newspapers, on television. I couldn't get away from it.
After my discharge in early 1974, I lived a life of desperate unhappiness. Trying to blot out my painful memories, I drank too much. Two marriages ended in divorce. Crippled emotionally, I couldn't open myself to others.
The one New Year's Eve I met Joanne on a blind date. She was a committed Christian and together she and I worshiped at my childhood church in Hoke County, N.C. We were wed thre. I loved Joanne, but her openness and generosity to others took me off guard. She was always doing for someone, often at a cost to herself. I wondered where the found the energy and love.
In the last 1980's I became an executive with a large defense contractor and we moved to northern Virginia, where we found a church in Vienna. There I saw people really living their beliefs. On a retreat one weekend I broke down in tears, realizing how far I was from what God wanted me to be. In November 1990 I turned my life over to Christ, and for the first time I understood what God's grace really meant. I was forgiven. And yet I still suffered terrible remorse and painf or what that little girl had gone through.
As I grew in faith I felt the Lord calling me to ministry. With Joanne's support I went to seminary and eventually I came to Purcellville as the pastor of Bethany United Methodist Church.
It was there in my living room that I saw again the picture that had haunted me. for the first time I heard about the girl. After she had recovered from her burns, Kim Phuc had been used by the Communists as a propaganda took, despite her objections. She was sent to Cuba to study pharmacology, and there she tfell in love with another Vietnamese student. The couple was given a trip to Moxcow for their honeymoon and on their way back, when the plane was refueling in Newfoundland, they had sought political asylum. Now they were living in Toronto with a young won.
I was overwhelmed with emotion. I wanted desperately to see her. But I was afraid. I couldn't imagine she would want to see the main who had caused her suffering.
Several weeis later, at a Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association gathering in California, I met Linh Duy Vo, a Vietnamese poet. Linh knew both Kim Phuc and Nick Ut, the photograph who took the famous photo. I learned that back in Trang Bang, Kim Phuc and her family had been in a pagoda when it was bombed. They fled into the street, where she was burned by napalm. Nuck Ut rushed her to a hospital. She wasn't expected to survive. For 14 months she had been hospitalized. Her chin had fused to her chest and her left arm was stuck to her rub cage. An American plastic surgeon operated on her and helped her begin a new life.
After I returned to Virginia, Linh said he had told Kim Phuc about me. He said she was a Christian and he thought we should get together. But I shrank from the possibility; it was too painful, too frightening.
Then I learned Kim was going to be at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., for Veterans Day ceremonies. I had already planned to be at the Wall. It was as thought the Lord were orchestrating our meeting.
On Monday, November 11, 1996, I was a t the black polished-granite memorial. Several fellow veterans were with me, giving me emotional support. All morning we waited, with no sign of Kim Phuc.
suddenly there was a rustle in the crowd and I saw reporters and photographers surrounding a short Vietnamese woman being escorted to the speaker's platform.
A man introduced Kim. He explained that two of her family members had been killed that day in Trang Bang. Lord, have mercy, I prayed. I began to shake, huge sobs coming from me. My buddies put their arms around me. Then Kim spoke: "If I could talk face to face with the pilot who dropped the bombs I would tell him we cannot change history, but we should try to do good things for the present and for the future to promote peace."
With a trembling hand, I wrote a note: "I need to speak with you for a moment." I gave it to a park-service officer to hand to her but by then the ceremonly had ended and Kim was escorted away. My heart sank. I would never see her again.
Then a friend raced up. "I'll get you to her," he said. Dodging through the crowd, he led me to Kim Phuc, who was just about to step into a waiting police car. Someone told her I was there. She turned and looked into my eyes. Her face full of compassion, she opened her arms. I fell into them sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I forgive. I forgive," she said, embracing me. In an instant the remorse was gone. The burden was lifted.
I was invited to join her at her hotel. There we spoke for a long, long time. All the while I was thinking how amazing it was I was seeing Kim Phuc. For 24 years I had run away from the pain I had caused her, and now God had finally brought us together. Finally I was at peace with my past.
At the end of our visit we held hands and prayed, sitting on a couch in the hotel lobby. "I want to come to your church and I want you to come to mind," she said. Someday it will happen. For now I remain in awe of the power of God's love. When I couldn't forgive myself, God helped me find forgiveness from the person from whom I most need it.

THE END.

So whatdoyathink mashadites?? Our Almighty Father is AWWWESOME!!!!!! What also moved me quite a bit,was this lady's ability to FORGIVE and forgive unconditionally.So hard to do at times. I learnt something from this story that i often forget.Hope you appreciated it too.




I can't remeber who asked about the WOMEN TROOPS thread but its under this O&A forum on page 4.
I've just realised that this story should probably have gone under R&S forum. Sorry folks!