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Never Put An Entire Anti-testimony Up


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Some of the new folks have asked me via private means about some of the details of my walking away from churchianity.


/seastory time on:


"One time in band camp":


Err, on the fast flight in and out of Zaire in 1986, with a load of "fellow Christians minsters" who had pissed off the locals, promising them a well (dug, as the rockhead and ersatz geologist I am, coulda tried harder to tell them not to drill' in sand for water) that failed, food, was UN rations, hardly edible much less sustainable, and then their vil got attacked by others..


All within a week.


The Missionaries, who had no workin' Plans B-C-G-OhFuckWe'reDead!, and X, had to call uS State Department and try to find some friendly uS Forced to extricate them..


Yeah, "just like in all the movies".


State told them, "Sorry, you got in to this mess contra our stern warning of hostile combatants in area. you are free to hire your own extrication, we'll expedite paperwork!" "Thanks for calling the uS Embassy!" "CLICK!"


They were shot at, kidnapped, ransomed, and paid for several times in the month it took to get things together for this. Company worked for liked to combine trips abroad, these folks were third inline to be found, rounded up, taken out of their problems.


>edit: We had been on ground for most of two weeks working to extricate them from their captors. Some of that did indeed require "hollywood" and the killing of the badguys. Most of the time we simply walked into where our folks were held, threatened the hostage takers, took what we wanted, walked free.. In a big fuckin' hurry...


I'm the Ditch Medic and Radio Op. Know a lot about firearms and tools and toys of War, but not a "Shooter". Do go into the bush with the Crews to patch up, fix and extricate the wounded and injured. Unlike the movies, this ole_fatman_medic DID carry and had occasion to use said toys.. Not my usual job..


Anyway, our friendly Adventist folks trying to excape were enplaned, accounted for, the dead (four) were tagged and bagged, all our guys but two are accounted for. Crew Captain calls for volunteers to hit the vil and sweep for our guys, no one is left behind, even if alls we get is body parts to bag up...


One of the nice preachers, a gal of 20-odd (cute as fuck, even distressed..) volunteered to get us back into village. Guard is told we have ONE hour to get there and back, the leased Hercules (civvy C-130) is leaving..


Long story short, we found two of our guys dead, ambushed. Third guy was being hauled off by three local actors, he didn't look good.


I am a precision shooter, won't brag too hard, but the three badguys were downed quickly. Got our badly injured man, no time to do much but slap blood stopping shit all over the cuts and breaks. Our guys take him out, AC crew helps with the deceased Teamies.


On way out, one of the locals moved, his hand on his AkM. I shot him damn near point blank, he quit moving. Locals, hearing the fire got to stirring and shooting in every direction.


Bad fuckin' place to be in. They know the Herc is on the ground, and there are a fuggin' lot of them. My little preacher gal is blubbering to Christ now, can't keep up, I'm draggin' her, and folks, I am extra buffalo slow at best of times..


Shooters on bird opened up to cover us and the last wounded man and his help. Got onboard, took a rest just inside tail and started taking out those who were readying RPG and MG fire at us. Dunno how many got shot as the bird loaded up and shot off on the hardest STOL takeoff I've been in..


Gate up, start assessing our wounded survivor. One of the missionaries is a real_Doctor of some sort. He starts fumbling around and can't find his Zone.. I toss his ass aside, listening to the murmurings of the rest of the real_religious, start cutting and chucking BDU and warfighting gear..


Fucking stabbed dozen times, bled out in his clothing, not even enough IV fluids onboard to start lifesaving. "Called him", nothing further my limited amount of cardiac dope can do. Doctor somewhat recovers from his spaciness, starts to work on him, telling his compatriots to "Pray, GOD WILL HEAL OUR RESCUER!"


Whole fuckin' herd of them starts muttering and callin' out to the Lord as Doc tries everything he knows and all the dope I have on me.

(Trust me folks, when I'm afield, there's shit in my gear get me hard time in uS and most Occidental *drug free* countries)


No go, Jesus simply wasn't at the Help Desk when Brain the G lost his fight. None of the fuckin' prayers of the faithful, all in agreement, and all that good scriptural shit did a thing.


When we bagged TheBrain, my little gal asked me "Why did you SHOOT Brother Buggasalmzi?????" in a shrill, whining voice..


About then, with all the emotion and thinking that happens when you are involved in this kinda event, usually Ocham's works..

"The dumb motherfucker was down, but was gonna try again to kill us..." "The asshole needed killin' ".


The looks on the flocksters faces was shock at the least, and horrified at best..

Rest of flight back to safety (Capetown in this case, where most of we were arrested anyway, another sea story) I had to listen to *them* tell me what a *poor example of Christianity* I was..


More I thought about it, the more right they were. Being a religious believer had nothing to do with the actions taken out there. Saving them as we were contracted to do, by *any means necessary* was..


After lots of thought and watching clouds and ground pass by be, the yammering of the religious, Bob Seger playing on my cassette player, said "fuckit, I don't need this shit".


When I got back home Stateside, tried talking to Pastor, some of the Elders, then to some mil_vets, all whom told me that "You should consider her words, she saw what was in your heart.."


Oh fuck me to tears.


Soon after that, my beard needed grown.. My Panhead called me from storage. It was time to hit some horizons, and we did.


Aint'a never looked back to an assembly that requires me to give homage or a blow job to an invisible dickhead.....


Hasn't all been fun and games since, but my life has been what I've wanted to do when I wanted to go play...


Life often sucks, but after you've dodged the bullets marked "to whom it may concern" theres a lotta little shit that doesn't matter.


k, Ditch Medic, other skills, itinerant hellraiser, fuckin'L



>Serious edit: third guy, "The Brain" chased after us, unknown to our party and girl.guide, he was ambushed sometime between time we found the dead of our Rescue Team and getting them retrieved, on way back to Hercules AC waiting for us. Brain was stabbed, mostly from side and front all around his armor. His assassins knew where to strike to defeat his body armors protection.

Time frame for this part of events, from time we touched down, established security, went to grab the missionaries and Brain's killing was >10 minutes.


We were in and out of this bullshit on a sandy road for a take off spot in >30 minutes. Herc took dozens of rounds, one engine lost in flight back to safety.


One correspondent asked what *dope* I had on board my kits. Morphine, heroin, assorted oral meds, tons of cardiac lifesaving drugs I am not licenced to practice with anywhere in uS or UK. Suture kits, sterile methods to patch and hold shit together until a *real doc* can get to repairing. Bush Medicine is really a *practice* more than an art..


Twenty-two of we went in, five were lost, and extraordinary number for this kind of *simple op*. Shit happened, God's Help Desk landline wasn't rung hard enuff..


Never went on another missionary run again...

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Quite a story. Thanks for sharing it. You're one of those folks who should write a book about your life.

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