Michael

True or not, believed or not, this is a lovely recount of something I came across years ago. The story of a soldier’s protection. Just as we have been protected by them. ‘Lest We Forget’.

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There’s a story about a young Marine named Michael who wrote a letter home to his mother while he was in the hospital after having been wounded in Korea in 1950.  A Navy Chaplain named Father Walter Muldy apparently was given the letter, checked the facts and concluded what was in the letter was true. A year later he read the letter in public for the first time, to a gathering of some 5,000 Marines at the Naval Base in San Diego.  Here is the letter:

Dear Mom,

I wouldn’t dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else would believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard but I have got to tell somebody. First off, I am in a hospital. Now don’t worry, ya hear me, don’t worry. I was wounded but I’m okay you understand. Okay. The doctor says that I will be up and around in a month.

But that’s not what I want to tell you.

Remember when I joined the Marines last year; remember when I left, how you told me to say a prayer to St. Michael every day. You really didn’t have to tell me that. Ever since I can remember you always told me to pray to St. Michael the Archangel. You even named me after him. Well I always have.

When I got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer that you taught me? “Michael, Michael of the morning, fresh chord of Heaven adorning,” you know the rest of it. Well I said it everyday. Sometimes when I was marching or sometimes resting. But always before I went to sleep. I even got some of the other fellas to say it.

Well, one day I was with an advance detail way up over the front lines. We were scouting for the Commies. I was plodding along in the bitter cold, my breath was like cigar smoke.

I thought I knew every guy in the patrol, when along side of me comes another Marine I never met before. He was bigger than any other Marine I’d ever seen. He must have been 6’4″ and built in proportion. It gave me a feeling of security to have such a body near.

Anyway, there we were trudging along. The rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start conversation I said, “Cold ain’t it.” And then I laughed. Here I was with a good chance of getting killed any minute and I am talking about the weather.

My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh softly. I looked at him, “I have never seen you before, I thought I knew every man in the outfit.”

“I just joined at the last minute”, he replied. “The name is Michael.”

“Is that so,” I said surprised. “That is my name too.”

“I know,” he said and then went on, “Michael, Michael of the morning …”

I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How did he know my name, and a prayer that you had taught me? Then I smiled to myself, every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn’t I taught the prayer to anybody who would listen. Why now and then, they even referred to me as St. Michael. Neither of us spoke for a time and then he broke the silence.

“We are going to have some trouble up ahead.”

He must have been in fine physical shape or he was breathing so lightly I couldn’t see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself, well with the Commies all around us, that is no great revelation. Snow began to fall in great thick globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out. And I was marching in a white fog of sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

“Michael,” I shouted in sudden alarm.

I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, “This will stop shortly.”

His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol, there was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise.

Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them. Seven Commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

“Down Michael,” I screamed and hit the frozen earth.

I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least, that was what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit, now I know..

I remember feeling strong arms around me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead, I remember thinking well, this is not so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor. As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again, but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. In his hands was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million lights. Well, that is the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me. I do not know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment’s rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

“Where is Michael,” I asked.

I saw them look at one another. “Where’s who?” asked one.

“Michael, Michael the big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us.”

“Kid,” said the sergeant, “You weren’t walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in when you disappeared in the snow.”

He looked at me, curiously. “How did you do it kid?”

“How’d I do what?” I asked half angry despite my wound. “This marine named Michael and I were just …”

“Son,” said the sergeant kindly, ” I picked out this outfit myself and there just ain’t another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it.”

He paused for a minute, “Just how did you do it kid? We heard shots. There hasn’t been a shot fired from your rifle. And there isn’t a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there.”

I didn’t say anything, what could I say. I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

It was then the sergeant spoke again, “Kid,” he said gently, “every one of those seven Commies was killed by a sword stroke.”

That is all I can tell you Mom. As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes, it may have been the cold or the pain. But that is what happened.

Love, Michael

We have search the internet trying to find the Marine soldier named Michael’s prayer which he said every morning.  Finally, we found a saintly elderly priest, Fr. Joseph Reitz, who knew the prayer.  Here it is: 

Michael, Michael, of the morning,
Fresh chord of Heaven adorning,
Keep me safe today
And in time of temptation,
Drive the devil away.

This prayer must be prayed upon rising every morning.

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http://www.tldm.org/News10/MarineNamedMichael.htm

14 thoughts on “Michael”

  1. a perfect story for Veterans Day…
    I Believe…
    When I got my orders for Viet Nam, I was told being a radio operator, we had a life
    expectancy of 45 seconds…and I remember thinking, my whole life will flash before me in just 45 seconds? I was 19…so I hadn’t even really begun to now who or what I was …
    but as I got my shots, boarded a a C-130, I knew I wouldn’t die…I don’t know how other than
    I had an overwhelming fragrance of roses and lilies….I thought of Mary Magdalene ( the rest is too long of a story I won’t bore you)
    I heard the most incredible music, which I still hear today….as we headed out over the Pacific, the fall of Saigon started, April 21st….we landed in Hawaii refueled and turned and went back to Ft Lewis Washington…the fall was April 23rd and.I worked at the MARS station patching calls through from Viet Nam non stop…not much later I was transferred to Germany….
    no matter what our Path is, the Faith with hold within is true…our truth….
    I have no doubt Michael was with the young soldier that day….the Angel I met when I died was like the one described….but it wasn’t Arch Angel Michael….though someone just as Special
    Thank you for sharing….it is a wonderful post…and I like the prayer….
    Take care…You Matter
    )0(
    BlessedBe
    maryrose

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    1. I believe too. There have been too many ‘unusual’ occurrences in my life to dismiss the extraordinary lightly.
      Your story sounds amazing. Smells are very evocative and are believed to signify a presence. A very reassuring experience. You say ‘the Angel I met when I died’. This sounds like something I would love to hear about. Have you ever done a post on it that I could read? Or would you consider doing one? Nineteen is so young to be involved in warfare. Here in the UK there are moves afoot to restrict the entry age to the forces to 18. At the moment it is 16! One of the few countries I believe that enlists at such a young age. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences. I would love to know more. Blessings.x

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  2. Very beautiful and moving. Many thanks for a lovely share scottishmomus. It gives a very peaceful feeling knowing that there IS something else. And to LadyBlueRose, I too would love to hear your story on ‘the angel you met’. My last post was on a gentleman who had had an ‘Out Of Body’ experience. Now this post from scottishmomus, that makes three. The universe is telling me something. Maybe if I invite these stories (on my ‘contact me’ page) to put onto a special page on my site for others to read and feel the truth in their journeys. They may allay fears for loved ones or even for themselves to find that there IS something else about us other than our daily life on this planet. Namaste

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    1. That sounds like a good idea. Yet another one. 🙂 People can sometimes be embarrassed to share such things as they know not all others believe the same way. And that’s fine. Everyone perceives slightly differently. But some stories need to be shared. Perhaps others would do it if they felt there was such a place to post in confidence. Worth a thought definitely. Namaste.x

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  3. Wonderful letter – it gave me chills. I know that angels protect us, just as sure as I’m certain the enemy strives to harm us. Thankfully, God’s armies are all around us. Thank you for sharing this.

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