A SOLDIER'S STORY

Christmas

By
Franke Gracia

Christmas in a nation where sharing my Christian beliefs could get me into serious trouble is not easy. In spite of this, I do try to share my faith wherever and whenever I can. Take, for example, a recent mission to Noman Kihl. This little village sits less than 20 miles outside the military base of Bagram, but getting to it by vehicle takes a good two hours of travel. The roads (if you can call them that) are that bad.

As we arrived that day, I tried to put myself in the shoes of the villagers. I tried to imagine what it must be like for a child in that village, observing strange-looking men, in strange-looking uniforms, armed with menacing weapons, entering my little village. As we fanned out and pulled security, I happened to notice four elderly gentlemen standing against a mud hut. In front of the men stood a small boy, maybe 8 years old. The child stared at me in wide-eyed wonder and worried apprehension. I pondered what his thoughts might be. Who was this man? What were all those strange things strapped to his body? Was he even a man? Why is he here?

After security was firmly in place, I ventured back to my vehicle to retrieve two of the most powerful weapons I have used as a United States Army Infantry Officer deployed in a combat zone – my camera and some candy. As I approached the men and the boy, I readjusted my M4 carbine from the “ready” position. I slung it across my back, as out of sight as possible. I took out my digital camera and motioned to the men as best I could in hand gestures that I wanted to take a picture of the little boy. At first the men were apprehensive – then confused. Finally, they agreed. (I wonder if they had ever even seen a camera before).

It was satisfying, nonetheless, to see their countenances change from apprehension to appreciation. Appreciation that this foreign soldier was being polite and respectful, requesting permission before snapping a picture of the little boy. I pointed, clicked, then carefully approached the child and got down on one knee. I motioned for him to look into the camera’s digital screen, then repeatedly pointed at the screen, and then at him. When he realized the image was actually him, he smiled, giggled, blushed, then quickly retreated to the safety of the villagers, clutching one of them forcefully by the leg. I smiled, and more importantly, the villagers smiled.

I then retrieved from my pocket some Tootsie Rolls and hard candy. I again motioned to the men that, given their permission, I wanted to give the candy to the child. They enthusiastically acquiesced. The child ever so hesitantly took the candy. I smiled. The child smiled. The men smiled. We completed our mission and went home.

I think back on that experience now, like so many I’ve had here in theater. Not a single word was exchanged between me and those men and that child. Not one. Yet I sincerely believe that I shared my faith with them. I shared it the most significant way I believe an individual can share ones faith, of any denomination – not with words, but with an act of heartfelt kindness and a genuine, sincere smile.

When we go on missions, we are armed with light anti-tank weapons, grenades, machine guns, rifles, carbines, pistols and enough ammunition to overthrow five small countries. Yet I can’t help but believe the most powerful weapons we possess are acts of kindness and smiles. I wonder what those four elderly gentlemen thought of me; a foreign soldier that treated them with respect and treated an Afghan child with kindness. Someday soon, that child may have an intolerant Mullah tell him all Americans are “Western infidels.” I hope he remembers my face. I hope he remembers my smile.

I am but a tired American soldier. Tired of Mullahs. Tired of all the religious leaders of the world that use religion to divide and not unite. Tired of religion. Tired of the rivers of blood spilled in the name of religion. Even so, I hope I never get so jaded that I tire of sharing my faith here in Afghanistan; not with words, but with digital cameras and Tootsie Rolls . . . and acts of kindness . . . and sincere smiles.

Merry Christmas

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Franke Gracia lives in Temple, Texas and was deployed in Afghanistan with the National Guard from May 2005 to April 2006. He is a math professor at Temple College and is very close to his family that includes two brothers and two sisters. He earned a bronze star while he was deployed, which he gave to his mother. As to why he decided to write this series of articles he says, "I hope folks who read my scribbling will gain a greater appreciation of what a citizen-soldier goes through during a deployment."