THE SOLDIER

JOYPEACE

In 1949, my father had just returned home from the war. During that time, on every American highway you would often see soldiers in uniform hitchhiking home to their families. Sadly, the thrill of his reunion with our family was soon overshadowed. My grandmother became very ill and had to be hospitalized. It was her kidneys, and the doctors told my father that she needed a blood transfusion immediately, or she would not live through the night. The problem was that Grandmother’s blood type was AB negative, which is very rare even today, but was even harder to get at that time because there were no blood banks or air flights to ship blood. All the family members were tested but none matched Grandmother’s blood type. So the doctors gave the family no hope; my grandmother was dying. My father left the hospital in tears to gather up the family members for saying their last good-byes to her. As he was driving down the highway, he passed a soldier in uniform, hitchhiking home to his family. Deep in grief, my father had no inclination at that moment to do a good deed. Yet it was almost as if something outside himself made him pull to a stop, and wait for the stranger to climb into the car. My father was too upset to even ask the soldier his name, but the soldier noticed my father’s tears right away and inquired about them. Through his sorrow, my father shared with this total stranger that his mother was in the hospital and not expected to live. He went on to explain that the doctors had not been able to get her blood type, AB negative and without this needed blood transfusion she would surely die that very night. It got very quiet in the car. Then this unidentified soldier extended his hand out to my father. There in the palm of his hand were his I.D.tags. One item of information on the tags stated that his blood type was AB negative. The soldier then urged my father to immediately turn the car around and get him to the hospital. Later, because of this transfusion, my grandmother lived for another 47 years--until 1996. To this day no one in our family knows the soldier’s name. However, my father has often wondered if he was really a soldier or actually an angel in uniform.