My One Night in the Army

My One Night in the Army

The draft missed me by just three days,
So I went to Preacher School.
Missed out on Basic Training--
Hey, now that's not cool!
So when a Vet from Nam told me
A Chaplain was their need--
I stepped right up to do God's stuff,
For my new company.

I bought camouflaged fatigues,
And sewed on Chaplain's cross.
A major drilled me on technique,
Since he would be my Boss.
I bought a pair of Army boots,
All black and shiny bright--
Then drove on down to King City,
For war games late one night.

My One Night in the Army--
Attention! March! Salute!
My One Night in the Army--
In my Second Lieutenant's suit.
My company disbanded,
And so I couldn't do it.
My One Night in the Army,
Till they gave me the boot.

I was bouncing 'round in my old car,
Among those tanks and jeeps--
With dusty nets and purple lights,
Through those dark ranks I'd creep.
“Have you seen my company?”
But they all shook their heads.
At half past three, I gave up,
And trundled off to bed.

I slept that night with officers,
And with the same I ate--
Paying for the eggs and hash,
They heaped upon my plate.
By then great tanks were rolling in,
I stood knee-deep in dust--
Still trying to find my company,
Not knowing they'd gone bust.

My One Night in the Army--
Attention! March! Salute!
My One Night in the Army--
In my Second Lieutenant's suit.
My company disbanded,
And so I couldn't do it.
My One Night in the Army,
Till they gave me the boot.

They were old soldiers, out of Nam,
And some, Korea, too--
California's mighty SMURFS,
Who'd served red, white, and blue.
But when they learned the sweat they'd burned
Would not turn into cash--
They'd resigned, left me behind,
Pretending I was M.A.S.H.

I spent one night as sole soldier
In all my company--
Stumbling through those war games,
Helping men stay free.
One night I've served my Uncle Sam,
But these old boots I'll keep.
They've not worn out in thirty years
Of marching in my sleep.

My One Night in the Army--
Attention! March! Salute!
My One Night in the Army--
In my Second Lieutenant's suit.
My company disbanded,
And so I couldn't do it.
My One Night in the Army,
Till they gave me the boot.

There are those who've served much longer,
But at least I've served my night.
I heard the call, and gave my all,
And marched right out to fight.
I've been among the honored few:
My nation's fighting men--
Searching for myself out there,
Hell bent on fighting sin.

My One Night in the Army--
Attention! March! Salute!
My One Night in the Army--
In my Second Lieutenant's suit.
My company disbanded,
And so I couldn't do it.
My One Night in the Army,
Till they gave me the boot.
My One Night in the Army,
But hey, I've got my boots!

c2013 by Skip Johnson
All Rights Reserved

Note: This is a true story. Mine. I think God has stirred these memories and given me this lyric at this time in preparation for the Fourth of July Children's Rodeo out at Chesaw, WA, where we are asking God to allow us to plant a church. Chesaw and nearby Pontiac Ridge have been a gathering placer for Veteran's desiring to live “off the grid” since at least the end of the Vietnam conflict.

The area has the reputation for being “The Wildest Place in the West”, and also draws AWOL felons, left-over hard rock miners from the shut down gold mine, drug runners, and various other citizens who are disenfranchised from civilian life and/or society at large. The inhabitants of Pontiac Ridge enforce their own brand of justice, and law enforcement generally know to leave well enough alone, and simply leave them to their own devices. One man was causing trouble, so they burned his house down, if I've got the story right. It was a subtle hint for him to move on. My lead elder from our Oroville congregation, the one with this target group as our church plant, was kidnapped by marijuanna farmers when he stumbled into their patch fifteen years or so ago. He finally escaped, and hiked out in the darkness.

Now I'm asking him, and others of our members, especially Veterans, and those who work well with children, to come back in to see what God will do in granting us a church in this isolated area just south of the border with Canada and to the east of the northern end of our Okanogan River Valley.

In the winter, Chesaw is bound in by heavy snows. In the summer, its population swells, peaking with the Fourth of July Rodeo for Children, which is their biggest festival of the year. In less than a month, we expect to take our first group in to mix and mingle and minister, as God allows us opportunity.

We baptized a woman who lives alone in a trailer out on the far side of Pontiac Ridge in the Tonasket “Let Freedom Ring!” series last year. She's a member of our Oroville congregation, but we don't see her much in the winter, due to the deep snows, and not much any time, due to the cost of gasoline in our spread out ministry territory. We need a weekly Sabbath meeting of worshipers in the Chesaw and Pontiac Ridge area to genuinely serve the spiritual needs that exist within this unique population.

The Fourth of July is a perfect day to begin a work for spirit-wounded heroes, the Veterans in one of the most forgotten corners of America. That is exactly what, with God's help, we intend to do.

Keep us in your prayers.

~Skip Johnson
Omak, WA
6/7/2013