The Day the Storm Began

LIFE LESSONS

This is the thirtieth anniversary of the start of the first Gulf war, Operation Desert Storm. There follows my weekly commentary on 16 January 1991 from KTIS, Minneapolis-St. Paul, over the Northwestern College Radio Network:

When I went to bed Tuesday evening, January 15th, the UN Resolution 678 deadline had passed without Iraq's compliance. When I arose the next day, I learned the allies had not yet taken action.

I went about the routine of getting ready my professional affairs and household—and my uniforms—so I can depart quickly. I had that Monday evening received a phone call from the Army Personnel Center advising me how the outbreak of hostilities would affect me as a recently retired army chaplain.

Wednesday evening, we sat down for supper. The first item of prayer was not blessing the food, but Stephen. Our younger son is a second lieutenant who leads a tank platoon in an armored division. We were without him this Christmas for the first time, and he spent New Year’s Eve over the Mediterranean as his unit flew in a C-141 from Germany to Saudi Arabia. He landed in the area of operations on his twenty-fourth birthday.

My wife Ann and her mother, Lilian Carmichael, prayed with me. They had faced the prospect of air attacks in their native England and were familiar with war from the civilian perspective. I had spent forty-three years in the Navy and Army, and this timeframe spanned three wars. And, so, we prayed for Stephen.

We haven't been having television on while we eat, but these are days to watch the news. When the reporter from Baghdad described air defense activity, I judged it was an Iraqi reaction to a false alarm. Then the White House confirmed combat operations were underway. Operation Desert Shield had become Desert Storm, and an emotional storm had begun for us.

I held a crying mother and a crying grandmother in my arms. We prayed again. The only words we managed to articulate were "Lord" and "Stephen."

I phoned our older son in Albany, Minnesota, and our daughter in Dallas. The family got together and reassured each other, as we always do at times of stress.

I phoned other families with children in the desert. Christian brothers and sisters called us to reaffirm their prayers for our son and for us. I was on the phone around the country and even Jerusalem. Our pastor and his wife came by to pray with us at the end of their round of Desert Storm families in the congregation.

We went to bed and slept. The Lord is good. The Lord is always good—no matter what happens. No matter what happens to Stephen, the Lord is good. He is good to us. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

We still pray. I pray that our air strikes will have maximum effectiveness so that land engagement is light. Tanks take the lead in this. But the Lord is good.

I despise what Saddam Hussein has done, but my heart goes out to the Iraqi people. God wants to be good to them, as well. And I want our armed forces to be agents of his goodness by liberating them and bringing them genuine and lasting peace.

I'm sitting in Stephen's room as I write. Here is the bed I used to tuck him into and then gently kiss him goodnight. He would respond, “Goodnight, Daddy.” I feel closer to him here.

I don't know what will happen to my boy. I don't know if I will yet be required to leave here again. But I know this: The Lord is good. He always is—whatever lies ahead.

Stephen was in the first wave to engage the Iraqi Republican Guard and was awarded the Bronze Star Medal for heroism in combat. Eventually, he left the army and went to law school. He was appointed a judge in Oklahoma and is now a city attorney in Colorado. And the Lord is still good.

About the Author | Wallace Alcorn

Wallace Alcorn has been a pastor, teacher and army chaplain.