Anne LeGare

Those who have never lived on the outskirts of an Army post might be amused at what it’s like to have your life imprinted with all things military. For example, at 5 p.m. every night, we hear the bugle playing “Retreat” over Fort Hood’s loud speaker system. When units are in the field, our windows rattle to the thud of artillery rounds day and night. We are the first to know when a unit has returned from Iraq, because we can’t miss the big gray jets on final approach to Robert Gray Army Airfield.

Fort Hood is open to the public in certain places, which makes for some great shortcuts to areas of our town. I drive onto the installation daily, and use back roads to take the children to school. Just recently, this sign was erected at both entrances to warn of the dangers of driving on an Army post.

The first time I saw the sign, I thought: Wow! Maybe they’re firing artillery close to these roads! I looked around and drove cautiously for a few days. I knew the dangers before the signs went up. I could see the tank trails for crying out loud! But for some reason, the sign made the danger seem more real to me. As with most warnings, however, now that I’ve traveled safely for a week, I cross my fingers and forge ahead, knowing that nothing terrible could possibly happen to me.

But if something did happen, wouldn’t people say: “They warned you! Didn’t you see the fine print that said ‘By Order of the Commanding General?’” Or maybe some would say: “I can’t believe that nice family was hit by artillery fire when they were crossing the tank trails on Fort Hood! What an injustice!”

Either way, we’d be hurt, even though we were warned.

Isn’t it like that with our Christian walk? Before we were saved, we lived lives filled with danger, but were supremely unaware. But after salvation, we’ve been given all kinds warnings to keep us out of danger.

We have the testimony of the Holy Spirit speaking directly into our minds and hearts. We have the Word of God telling us of specific dangers. We can’t claim to be unaware. In fact, God speaks to us in military terms about the tactics our adversary, Satan, uses and how to avoid being hit by his artillery.

Ephesians 6:11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. ¹²For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.  ¹³Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.  ¹⁴Stand firm therefore, HAVING GIRDED YOUR LOINS WITH TRUTH, and HAVING PUT ON THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, ¹⁵and having shod YOUR FEET WITH THE PREPARATION OF THE GOSPEL OF PEACE;  ¹⁶in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.

Again we see a warning about the devil’s tactics in 2 Corinthians 2:11, and are told to see to it “that no advantage would be taken of us by Satan, for we are not ignorant of his schemes.”

Will we cross our fingers and forge ahead, thinking: That’s just the Bible – nothing’s going to happen to me? Or are we willing to join David, who said “I delight to do Your will, O my God; your Law is within my heart.” (Psalm 40:8)

When trials come, I’m going to avoid shortcuts, heed the warnings and obey the orders of my Commanding General, so I won’t be hit by artillery fire.

While in the Protocol job that kept me from my babies, I had a few more embarrassing moments.  The commmanding general (CG) had a short list of company and battalion commanders he preferred for escort duty when a VIP visited.

When one of the officers in the CG’s preferred “stable” wasn’t available for escort duty, the job would sometimes fall on me, because I knew the boss’s requirements for a VIP show-and-tell.  After all, I was the one crafting most of the itineraries.

One time, a three-star general was visiting, and I was tapped to be his escort officer.  He was the Army’s top personnel officer, so the post Reception Station was high on the list of places to take him.

I could tell right away he was thoroughly uncomfortable with a female escort.  I would jump out of the sedan to open his door and he would already be out of the car.  I would go ahead of him to open a door for him, and he would refuse to go through it.  It was awkward for both of us to play the role-reversal game.

But I persevered because I was his escort!  I attempted several more times to beat him to a door, to no avail.  Finally, I acquiesced and started following him.  That seemed to make him happy.

After the Reception Station briefing, the general started walking briskly toward the front of the building, so I was double-timing to keep up with him.  As we rounded the corner and through a doorway, the general turned to me and said “I think I can take it from here, Captain.”

We had just walked into the men’s bathroom!

Is there such a thing as the “Prevenient” grace of God? Does He work in us before we become Christians? I think He does.

My initial inkling that I wasn’t where God wanted me happened during my first week of work in the dream job. Colonel Jack H. Griffith, Jr., the Fort Dix Chief of Staff, buzzed me on the intercom to invite me to my inaugural meeting with all the post directors. Jack Griffith referred to these as the “heavy hitters” of the installation, and I was the newly installed Protocol Officer. I wasn’t sure what a “heavy hitter” was, but I was ready to learn.

I jumped up, put on my green uniform coat, and grabbed my steno book and a pen. That’s when it happened. Breast milk was oozing right through my shirt, and quickly soaking my coat. By the time I got upstairs, I had a patch of milk spreading just under my nametag on the right, and soaking my awards on the left. It was time to feed my baby!

But I was an Army Captain! I’d landed the headquarters job and was about to rub shoulders with the bigs! I’d done this career and baby thing before. The second child wasn’t supposed to cause me to rethink my priorities. I was a woman in conflict: should I make an excuse, miss the important meeting, and feed my baby, or should I wad up some paper towels, shove them in my shirt, and go to the meeting? I chose the meeting. Baby Mark got the bottle.

When I got back to my desk a small voice whispered in my heart, “your body was made to feed your baby – go home!” I brushed away a stray tear, and started planning the Commanding General’s garden party.