Yesterday I attended the
funeral of the father of my friend Craig Buckles. Paul Buckles was plain and simple, a war
hero. The children of Paul all performed
a eulogy; a task though filled with love and remembrance, was also filled with
tears. Paul fought under the command of
General George S. Patton in France in late 1944. A member of the 161st Combat
Engineers, Paul, a Private First Class, took over for his commander when the
officer fell to enemy fire. Under fire,
Paul completed the mission of securing a bridge. Though wounded, Paul continued with their
mission and thus was awarded the bronze star, and Patton took notice of Paul’s
bravery and invited him to play cards.
All I really knew of Paul
when I was growing up and getting in trouble with Craig was that he was a
loving father. He had to be with the
trouble that Craig and I routinely got into.
I never knew the man until I listened to the children talk about all
their wonderful memories of their parents both of whom are now deceased.
Paul’s pastor spoke of
baptizing him a few years ago and how he had a deep and abiding love of
Christ. The children told stories of
Paul being saved numerous times during the war.
Once he was sitting on a log with a friend eating the usual horrible GI
food when a woman approached them from the woods and invited them to her house
for a home-cooked meal. As the two
soldiers followed her, they heard an explosion and ran back to the
canteen. The canteen and most of the
soldiers were obliterated and the log that Paul had been sitting on a few
minutes earlier was ground zero for the German shell.
Craig described Paul’s
visions as he lay on his deathbed. For
two days, Paul would occasionally stare off into space and tell Craig how
beautiful it was on the other side, the place where he was going. Craig also heard him talking to his deceased
wife who Paul said was waiting in that beautiful place for him.
As a psychiatrist, Craig is
trained to diagnose hallucinations. As a
Christian, Craig also has a deep faith in Christ. Craig admitted that the visions could have
been the wishes and hopes or a dying man, or it could indeed be visions of his
ultimate destination. I prefer to believe
as Craig, that Paul’s deep and abiding faith allowed him to see his new home.
I am reminded of Jack Cash,
the brother of Johnny. Jack was mortally
wounded in an accident at a sawmill. The
fourteen-year-old older brother of Johnny also had a strong faith and wanted to
become a preacher. On his deathbed,
moments before his death, he became lucid and asked his mother if she could see
the angels. Jack said he could hear them
singing and it was beautiful. He died
peacefully.
During my heart surgery and subsequent
repair after I died in ICU, I also saw visions.
I thought I might be hallucinating but I wasn’t under the influence of
drugs since a narcotic would hurt my heart.
I saw a group of women, dressed in old time clothes smiling at me and
welcoming me. The feeling of peace was
overwhelming. I believe and I believe strongly.
