Faith on the Frontline: A Journey of Struggle, Perseverance, and Triumph

By Frank Selden

Are you ready to embark on an incredible journey of faith, struggle, and triumph? Faith on the Frontline: A Journey of Struggle, Perseverance, and Triumph takes you into the heart of chaos and danger, where faith becomes the beacon of light guiding soldiers on the front lines. This captivating book is not just another war memoir; it's a testament to the unyielding power of faith and the resilience of the human spirit.
In this remarkable memoir, Frank Selden, a writer, lawyer, and politician, shares his personal journey as a National Guard soldier deployed to Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom II. Through his vivid storytelling, you will experience firsthand the challenges, the fears, and the triumphs of life on the frontlines.
As you delve into Faith on the Frontline, you will witness the transformative power of faith in action. Frank's unwavering belief in something greater than himself not only helped him navigate the imminent dangers but also empowered him to find strength, hope, and purpose amidst the chaos.
This book is not only for those who support the war or identify as people of faith. It is a must-read for anyone seeking to comprehend the complexities of war and gain a profound understanding of the human experience. Through Frank's eyes, you will witness both the horrors and the beauty of war, and you will be reminded of the indomitable human spirit that prevails in even the darkest of times.
Faith on the Frontline is an emotional rollercoaster that will leave you inspired, deeply moved, and forever changed. Frank’s vulnerability and authenticity will enable you to relate to his frustrations, his sorrows, and his joys. This book challenges you to reflect on your own beliefs, values, and priorities, urging you to recognize the strength that faith can bring in times of adversity.
With its engaging narrative and heartfelt prose, Faith on the Frontline will transport you to a world where the power of faith can conquer even the most formidable obstacles. Join Frank on his unforgettable journey of struggle, perseverance, and triumph, and discover the transformative potential of faith that resides within us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 22 Lions
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 1953274552

Book preview

Preface

This book brings together three types of articles. The groups were originally separate collections: news, opinions about the news, and reflections on making sense of the chaos through the eyes of faith.

This book weaves current events, poignant essays on contemporary issues, and faith lessons into a chronological story.

This is not an easy book to read; at least I hope it isn't. I do not want readers to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. I want you to feel the struggle, ponder the perplexities, and question how real your faith is to you.

This book is not a novel, nor is it the result of an author carefully orchestrating events to enhance character development or reveal a surprising plot twist.

Life can be stranger than fiction, and this trip to Iraq certainly fits that description.

I wrote home about events as I witnessed and experienced them in northern Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom II. Recipients forwarded them to others who were eager to hear news about the troops that was not being discussed in the media. These segments tell the story of our activities in Iraq beginning on April 24, 2004 (4-24-04), more than five months after my National Guard unit first received activation orders.

Beginning the first week of activation, I began keeping a journal of my thoughts and reactions, more to maintain my sanity than out of any desire to share my reflections. Most of these essays make up the bulk of this book. Some of them are funny, some of them are serious, and all of them open up the world of service to our troops in Iraq.

The news articles and opinion pieces were not enough for me to put together a book.

After several months in the States, I decided to include the faith struggles I was going through.

Many books have been written about the military and humanitarian efforts of Operation Iraqi Freedom, but my focus is not on what happened or why it happened. Instead, my focus is on my beliefs about God, myself, and the world around me after living through the experience.

Many people believe that there are no atheists in the foxhole. I have found this to be false! As a result of our experiences, more soldiers struggled with their faith than chose to believe in God.

This struggle is not unique to Iraq. Faith comes under fire from many parapets.

People who preach tolerance often practice it in favor of everyone but people of faith.

For some, faith is the root of all evil because it breeds intolerance for their sinful lifestyles. Many of our top universities, some of them formerly private, religious institutions, do not allow faith concepts to be taught in certain scientific disciplines.

People of faith must fill the gap! We must learn to exercise our faith in a way that others will see faith for what it is: God's gift to a disadvantaged world.

Our faith can meet people in their needs. Faith is timely, relevant and active. Our faith has answers to the most challenging issues of our generation.

Now more than ever, this world demands that we live by faith, in Iraq, in the United States, and in every country on our globe.

Introduction

In the midst of chaos and danger, there is a light that shines through. It's the light of faith, unyielding and unshakable, that keeps soldiers on the front lines. It's the force that feeds their spirits and gives them the courage to face adversity head-on. Faith is the common thread that binds together the men and women who risk their lives for their country, and this book is a testament to that.Faith on the Frontline is not just another book about the war in Iraq. It's the story of one man's journey of faith, hope, and perseverance in the face of overwhelming challenges. Frank Selden, a writer, lawyer, and politician, was deployed to Iraq as a National Guard soldier during Operation Iraqi Freedom II. What he saw there changed him forever.As you read this book, you'll join Frank on his journey through Iraq. You'll see how faith helped Frank survive and thrive in the face of difficult situations.This book is a collection of news from the front lines, opinions about the news, and reflections on making sense of the chaos through the eyes of faith.

Through it all, you'll get to know Frank as a man of faith, a soldier, a husband, and a father. You'll feel his frustration, his anger, his sadness, and his joy. You'll see how his experiences in Iraq challenged him to rethink his beliefs and how he came out the other side stronger in his faith and convictions.This book is not an easy read, but it's a necessary one. It's not just for people who support the war, but for anyone who wants to understand what it's like to be a soldier in a war zone. It's not just for people of faith, but for anyone who wants to see how faith can help people overcome the greatest challenges of their lives.Frank's journey is not just personal. It's a journey we all must take if we hope to understand the human experience in all its complexity. Through his eyes we see the best and the worst of humanity, the horror and beauty of war, and the power of faith to transcend it all.Faith on the Frontline is a powerful and illuminating book that will challenge you to think deeply about your own life, your own beliefs, and your own journey. It's a book that will inspire you to believe in something greater than yourself and to hold onto that belief no matter what comes your way. It's a book that will stay with you long after you've finished it. So buckle up, hold on tight, and join Roy on his journey of struggle, perseverance, and triumph.

Chapter 1 - The Surreal Reality of Military Deployment

November 17, 2003

This year I have activated credit cards with a phone call, online accounts with email responses, and contracts with a signature. Now, with a short phone call, I am being activated myself. Not unexpected, given world events, but still surreal.

The sergeant quickly delivered his news over the phone and moved on to notify other National Guard soldiers.

After he hung up, I felt as disconnected from my life as I did from the caller.

The decision makers do not know the impact this will have on me and my family. Nor do they care whether I respond to the call with the required action.

The consequences of not doing so are severe enough to deter all but the most determined. The decision makers, the chosen few with vast powers of delegation, speak, and the Mordor-like furnaces of the army rumble to create an incredible, if not invincible, army.

Am I just the result of clever military programming? I shudder at the thought.

In the 1977 action thriller Telephone, Charles Bronson tracked down a rogue Russian agent who was activating long-dormant terrorist cells. He triggered the activation with a Robert Frost line that happened to be the title of a book about Jackie Pflug's survival of a terrorist kidnapping.

Dean Koontz's psychotic psychologist in False Memory programmed patients to carry out his atrocities when activated by a haiku.

Finally, here I am, ready to spring into action from a cryptic phone call.

I like to think that there are significant differences between these terrifying fictional characters and me.

Every day of my nine years in the Guard included the realization that I was only a phone call away from activation.

Donning my uniform every drill weekend reminded me of the duties I had sworn to uphold.

Requesting a regulation haircut always reminded me that I did not enjoy the freedoms most civilians take for granted.

The phone call did not turn me into a mentally and emotionally detached android. I serve willingly and proudly! Truth be told, I often found part-time soldiering inconvenient.

This switch to an all-expense-paid 18-month tour in Iraq is definitely not coming at a good time.

Three days ago, I took the oath of admission to the Washington State Bar.

I want to live my life that has been on hold for four intense years of school. I want my vacations, my holidays, my time with family and friends. But I am not the only one whose life is on hold today. Every Guard soldier has a civilian life tied to a military leash. Activation, like diarrhea, is inconvenient at any time.

I called my family and close friends to tell them about my upcoming deployment.

The more I talked to them about the deployment, the more excited I became about actually being in Iraq.

Despite the inconvenience, I want to go! I want to help build a foundation for democracy out of the ashes of Saddam's brutal regime! I want to see with my own eyes the transformation that Iraqis will develop with their new freedom!

I am activated today, but I will not report back for two weeks. I want to get going! This is what I am programmed to do.

Chapter 2 - The Decision to Go

November 20, 2003

Many people wonder why I am so excited about going to Iraq.

If they think about their question at all, they usually mean why I want to go into a hostile fire zone. After all, who wouldn't want to visit Iraq under peaceful conditions?

Iraq has some of the oldest history in the world. Early biblical stories took place there. Iraq is the land of Tigris and Euphrates, Babylon and Nineveh.

Although I have explored most of North America, this will be my first time outside the continent.

The adventure of Iraq aside, they continue, why do I want to go into combat?

Fortunately, our particular mission does not involve combat. We are not at war with the Iraqi people; we are helping them rebuild their country.

Saddam is out of power because of our combat troops. They set the stage for our mission and our success.

Won't I miss my wife and kids? Yes, I think I will! I will miss Christmas, our anniversary, birthdays, school plays, family dinners or movie nights, hugs, kisses, and everything else that growing children do in a year.

Philese and I do almost everything together. She is my best friend and I never get tired of spending time with her. It is hard for me to say that I want to go to Iraq knowing that we will be apart for over a year.

Often life presents us with choices, alternatives that we want, but that cannot be realized at the same time.

We want our children to be successful, but we are afraid to let go. We want a new car or house, but not the payments. We want love without the pain of losing it, good health while eating and drinking ourselves into an early grave, or the blessings of God without the responsibility of living as His creation.

I want to go to Iraq and I do not want to be away from my family.

Some people ask how I feel in my spirit about going to Iraq.

I do not see a clear or complete picture, but I believe there is a personal spiritual component to this mission.

God has something specific for me to do in Iraq. That takes care of all the other questions for me. Probably not a missionary trip, but rather a bridge-building or faith-building mission.

I expect that will become clear soon after we arrive.

Chapter 3 - The Vegas Run

November 24, 2003

Philese and I wanted to get away from everything that had to do with the mobilization. Spending my last week of freedom in Las Vegas seemed like a good solution. We got married in Las Vegas on Valentine's Day and returned on one of our four anniversaries. Las Vegas seemed like an ideal place to avoid thoughts of leaving and focus on our relationship.

Little did I know that a simple chain of events would instead vividly remind me of the entire conflict in less than twenty-four hours.

I decided to accept a money order I had received in the mail instead of going to the bank to cash it, even though we had plenty of time before our flight. It was a Western Union money order made out to a 7-11 on the East Coast.

What could be easier to cash? Or so I thought.

Our hotel would not cash it. Neither would the Western Union office on the Strip.

We didn't need the money, but I felt possessed. Not even my wife's smiling suggestion that we concentrate on our vacation deterred me from my goal.

I figured a local 7-11 was my best hope. A hotel clerk said the closest one was about two miles east on Tropicana Ave.

I dressed in sweats to fight the brisk early morning air. Philese's soft voice from across the room reminded me that the cold air could aggravate my lung condition.

I did not realize at the time that she might have her own subtle reasons for wanting me to stay.

I kissed my wife on the cheek and promised to return soon.

The fifty degree temperature immediately chilled me.

Remembering that I had gone polar bear swimming in colder temperatures than this, I began to jog.

Within minutes, breathing became difficult.

I continued past McCarran Airport. My lungs felt hot.

As I passed the south end of the UNLV campus, I began to cough up congestion from my chest.

When I reached the 7-11, I coughed on the decorative rocks next to the store.

I felt guilty for coming here to ask for a favor and then doing disgusting things to their rocks.

I waited outside until I could talk without sounding like I wanted someone to call 911 for me.

The cashier explained that she could not cash the money order because it was not from this particular store. Apparently, one drawback to 7-11's low-cost money order system is the lack of system-wide verification.

If I could just come back in three hours when the manager arrived?

Come back?! She had no idea what I had gone through to get there just once!

Discouraged, I sauntered out of the store.

This money order seemed harder to get rid of than the bronchitis.

Another coughing fit. This time I went to the rocks in front of the store, and I didn't feel guilty.

I jogged slowly and staggered toward the hotel. I had doubts about my ability to complete a mission in Iraq. If I couldn't survive a short stint in Vegas, what made me think I could survive a year in Iraq?

Part of my anxiety centered on the fact that there was no consistent explanation for why I was experiencing these symptoms on a regular basis.

Lots of possibilities, lots of suggestions from people who had gone through similar experiences, offers of products that were sure to help, frequent prayers, but no lasting solutions.

Would this happen again in Iraq to the detriment of me, my unit, or the military?

The doubts slowed me down more than the labored breathing.

I stopped on the sidewalk about halfway back to the hotel, hands on my knees, trying to relax and get more air. I remained there for several minutes.

A much older gentleman jogged by. You can do it! Keep going! he declared, sounding very cheerful for an early hour on a dreary day.

I lifted my head, smiled at him, and watched him disappear around a corner as he turned north.

I rose to my feet, determined to walk the rest of the way to the hotel without stopping.

A small part of the landscape froze me before I took my first step. Two towers of the New York New York hotel towered over the MGM Grand.

These towers were the only part of New York New York I could see at that moment.

In an instant, I realized that this part of the Las Vegas skyline was the only part of the real New York skyline that was no longer visible in this great city.

News reports mentioned that several of the terrorists had visited Las Vegas before their fateful flight that changed the world.

I wondered if they looked at the New York, New York towers with a sense of foreboding. I wondered if they laughed, pointed, perhaps even made comments that people who met them might have recognized as premonitions.

Seeing the two New York towers in Las Vegas spurred me to action. I vowed to do everything I could to participate in Iraq, starting with finishing this run.

Chapter 4 - Reflections on Peace and Conflict

December 01, 2003

Report day. The waiting is over and the adventure begins. My one-hour drive gave me too much time to think.

I would rather spend my mental energy looking forward, but I know nothing about my future except generalities and rumors. Instead, I spent the entire drive thinking about an email I received.

A good friend of mine, a Quaker and passionate peace advocate, suggested that I disobey my orders. He challenged me to live according to the teachings of Jesus, who promised: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God (Matthew 5:9).

He reminded me that God hates those who sow discord and stir up trouble (see Proverbs 6:19) and wants us to live at peace with all men, if it is possible, as far as it depends on you (Romans 12:18).

His words resonated with my soul and stirred my spirit to deep reflection. I want to live in peace. The challenge is how to achieve it when other parties do not want to live in peace and are willing to kill themselves and others to prove it.

Peace is not created by legislative fiat, UN resolution, or dictatorial edict. Peace is more than a truce between aspiring neighbors.

Avoiding the issues that create conflict brings tranquility, but not peace. Ignoring the truth can help people pretend that peace exists, a state in which many of us lived before 9/11, but real peace requires a foundation based on truth.

How can we have peace when the people or nations we deal with smile, pledge their support, shake our hands, but secretly plan our demise?

I thought of two heroes of the peace movement whom I admire, Dr. King and Gandhi.

Dr. King preached and practiced nonviolence.

As I understand Dr. King, nonviolence seeks reconciliation, not the defeat of an adversary. Nonviolence seeks the elimination of evil, not the destruction of an evildoer. Nonviolence involves a willingness to accept suffering for the cause, but never to inflict it. Most importantly, Dr. King taught a strict rejection of physical violence.

Gandhi took the principles of nonviolence to their spiritual peak: Satyagraha.

Satyagraha literally means insistence on truth. An insistence so resolute that it never resorts to falsehood in pursuit of truth, or to violence of any kind (not even cursing) in pursuit of peace.

Satyagraha is a weapon, spiritual, never physical.

What course of action would Jesus, Dr. King, and Gandhi recommend?

They would not recommend that I remain passive, but that I work with others to raise a strong, collective voice against all violence.

Some people argue that Muhammad is a great moral teacher, equal to or greater than the three previously mentioned.

What would Muhammad say about this conflict?

If I understand him correctly, I deserve to die. Any Muslim who kills me is doing the will of God, and if he dies in the process, he will be absolved of all sin and rewarded above all non-martyrs.

Muhammad would recommend that I convert to Islam, that only by converting to Islam can I attain peace.

I do not agree that Muhammad is a great prophet. He does not speak for any god that I know of.

I believe that people in the United States should be free to practice Islam if they choose. But why do some members of the Islamic faith, acting on the words of their prophet, not allow me the same freedom?

We do not live in peace in the United States. Yet peace is a goal that most Americans share.

I want to be a peacemaker. However, I disagree with Dr. King and Gandhi on one point: There are steps we can take that will bring us closer to peace.

Right now, I think one of those steps is to ensure our national security. I strongly disagree with blowing up innocent civilians to make a point to others. Terrorist acts are a kind of evil that I find hard to fathom.

Defending my family or my country against these evildoers is not morally equivalent to terrorism. However, in our defense of freedom, we should not become terrorists ourselves.

In the end, I will stand alone in the eternal judgment of my life. My friend will stand for his.

I believe that eternity will judge each of us for standing up for what is right. But the Islamic terrorists believe the same thing about themselves.

Chapter 5 - A Door Slammed in My Face

December 08, 2003

It ended as quickly as it began. A decision by a general in Iraq, a stamp from a major at Ft. Lewis, and I am on my way home.

Prior to deployment, National Guard troops endure a multi-day vigil known officially as the MOB station and unofficially in words that cannot be printed.

The MOB station consists of numerous workstations, each supporting a different paperwork function. One station processes individual orders, another verifies background checks, and another ensures that soldiers have a will and other necessary legal documents. Each station has its own circuit. Its own long, boring, one-chair-at-a-time line.

A ten-hour day at the MOB station typically includes an hour for lunch, an hour of actual processing, and eight hours of waiting.

I hate waiting!

Our orders specifically conditioned our activation on passing a medical certification.

The job of the medical station is to certify that each soldier meets or exceeds the minimum medical qualifications for the mission at hand.

Requirements may exceed the Department of Defense minimums at the discretion of the theater commander.

The theater commander in Iraq issued a directive for MOB medics to screen for respiratory disease. The medical questionnaire instructed us to list all current medications.

An open prescription for Advair sits on the top shelf of my bathroom medicine cabinet. I have yet to fill my first purple thirty-day supply since receiving it 10 months ago. An emergency inhaler and nebulizer sit in my top dresser drawer, even though my wife and doctor suggest I keep them with me at all times, just in case.

I planned to take the inhaler and a spare with me to Iraq.

On active duty, the military provides a 90-day supply of current prescriptions at virtually no cost. All I had to do was write the prescription in the appropriate box.

I listed Advair under current medications and waited in line.

A doctor read my form. He stopped when he got to the prescription section. Why are you taking Advair? he asked, putting the form down and looking at me over his glasses.

I described my lung condition, hoping to make it sound trivial. He nodded, stamped my form, and then circled the words No Go.

You need to take this form through that door to get your new profile... he began, assuming I knew what his actions meant and wanted to move the line along.

I froze, not accepting the papers he held out to me.

He paused, a reassuring smile crossing his face and compassion softening his voice.

You can't go, son! The theater commander refuses to accept any more soldiers with respiratory problems. He's sending too many home. The air quality over there is especially bad.

He continued to wave the papers in my direction.

I still refused to accept it.

I don't have a breathing problem, sir. I just have a prescription for Advair. In fact, I argued, I don't need it! I wanted to submit a new form without listing the prescription.

As if he could read my mind, the doctor shut me down faster than Barbara Streisand refusing to perform at the Bush ranch.

If you lie about your condition and have any problems in Iraq, you will be sent stateside and discharged from the Army, he said.

I can pass a PT test! I can do anything that needs to be done! My unit needs me! I insisted.

If something happens and you can't get the attention you need, then you become a liability to your unit. Is that what you want? he asked.

No, sir! I replied.

I know you are disappointed, he continued. You will not be discharged here. You can be mobilized to Bosnia, Macedonia, anywhere but the Iraq theater. I can't overrule the commander's decision, and it's for your own good.

He held out my papers again. You need to take these through those doors.

This time I took the forms and walked slowly toward the exit.

I felt shocked, my emotional presence so overwhelmed that it was as if my brain had been replaced by an instructional video on how to act like a zombie.

I want to go to Iraq! Others might see this as a blessing. I felt like a football player who had to sit on the bench with an injury while his team played in the Super Bowl.

I want to go to Iraq! I screamed inside.

Why? Why did I write that prescription? Why am I again so close to a goal only to have a door slammed in my face?

The question continued with increasing intensity.

No answers except the obvious.

It did not matter that I had put off applying for legal jobs in anticipation of an Iraq deployment and had no job to fall back on. It did not matter that I had trained and focused exclusively on going to Iraq since that first phone call. It did not matter whether my unit actually needed or wanted me.

The severity of my condition was irrelevant and unimportant.

I reached the door of doom. The doctor inside read the previous doctor's decision. I'll be right back with your profile, he said, getting up, but I stopped him:

Can I appeal? Can I request a review board? Is there anything I can do? I squealed, my vocal cords already as tense as the rest of my body.

Yes, you can appeal, but it won't do any good, he replied.

A divine proclamation or prophetic revelation, signed by God Himself, declaring that I would return from Iraq unharmed would not change these doctors' minds.

I appealed and included my commander in the process.

Two lieutenant colonels discussed my fate while I prayed for an opportunity to continue the mission.

Chapter 6 - Wrestling with Faith and Duty in a Time of War

December 10, 2003

I'm not going. Me, the most excited person in the unit about going to Iraq.

Why am I the only one staying?

I feel frustrated, disappointed, jealous and angry. But angry at who? The general for issuing the order to turn away any soldier with a level two or higher respiratory problem? No, he made a good decision in the best interest of the military and the soldiers! The doctor for determining that I fit the level two lung category? No, he too is doing his duty, exactly what the military and his country expect of him! God for creating me with a predisposition to such diseases?

It is amazing how often people rationalize that man is not to blame for the events we face in life, so it must be God's fault. An act of God, though not on the scale of a hurricane or other natural disaster.

In the midst of my swirling emotions, I realize that