I began keeping a journal of my dreams, thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in 1973. One of the rewarding outcomes was clarifying my values. Did my conduct correspond with my values or something different? Achieving this level of awareness is not easy to unearth, but without journaling, I doubt the truth would have surfaced.
During the 1970s, I came across the following writing. I was moved by it, so I made a copy and stuck it in a notebook. Fifty-five years later, I reopened the notebook and rediscovered the treasure it preserved for me. I was able to track down the writer, and he gave me permission to share it with you. When he wrote it, he was a young Marine flying bombing missions over North Vietnam and trying to sort out how what he was doing aligned with his Christian values. During the years between his reflections and my contacting him, David Bena attended seminary, became an Episcopal priest, and later a bishop.
Meditation While Conducting a Bombing Raid
Father, forgive them
for they know not what they do.
The last ten miles are always the worst.
Those last sixty seconds are the ulcer makers.
Look at all the tracers; we're surrounded
By walls of red, white, and green steel!
Why always a barrage of anti-aircraft fire
Every time we hit this target?
We may not even make it to the target if this keeps up!
The last ten miles are always the worst.
Why did I get involved in this mess, anyway?
I could have been a supply officer.
Some of my friends say that the U.S. has to fight this war;
Some say we've got no right here - we're interfering.
And here I am in the middle of it all
Without even a pro or con on the war.
I just want to drop these bombs as best I can.
Am I serving my country with valor?....
Or am I copping out on my values and just following orders?
Look at all those tracers!
Somewhere down there little men are pulling triggers.
They're praying that they'll get me before I get them.
Okay, concentrate on the bombsite.
I've GOT to be on target - to miss could mean unnecessary death.
What if we get hit and have to eject?
I might wind up in a POW camp for years.
I wonder if Mary Ellen will be notified if I become a POW.
Okay, okay; forget those thoughts; We won't get hit!
Concentrate on the bombsite; we're closing in.
Lord Jesus, I've committed my life to you.
Can I do that and still drop these bombs?
And why this thrill of excitement?
Instead of pangs of conscience?
You're forcing a moral question on me, Lord.
I've got twenty-eight bombs to deliver - can I say no to that?
No, I can't say no! I have a responsibility to deliver them....
Haven't I?
All right, Lord. I accept the fact that you're working your purpose
out, but must that purpose include my dropping these bombs?
Why am I questioning this raid, anyway?
It's just another bombing raid; one of many I've made.
We're getting close now. Okay, little bombs
It's your ball game, now. I've done all I could.
Standby...standby...Bombs away!
Twenty seconds later I glance over my shoulder
And see a firey hell of explosions, fires, and flying debris;
Twenty-eight bombs dance ecstatically along the earth behind us...
Father, forgive me
For I know not what I do.