I was standing in the lobby waiting to link up with Jay, my point of contact for the event where I was teaching soldiers. I could feel someone approaching me. I looked up. But it was not Jay, the hotel employee. It was a man that I could tell had served in the military. He walked up to me, a hint of recognition in his eyes. He extended his arm to shake hands.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said.

“What brings you here, soldier?”

“I’m leading an event for some soldiers, and they recommended this place as a venue they’d like to use,” I said. “I worked the request and it worked out. So we’re here for training.”

Looking around at the lobby, I said, “I like their choice. I’m just waiting to link up with one of the employees so I can do a little reconnnaissance and get my bearings. Training begins tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll like it. I’ve got my grandboys here. They’re swimming currently with one of my sons.”

“What brings you here, sir?”

“My grandsons love this place. I served in Vietman from 1970 to ’71,” he said.

“Which branch?” I asked.

“Marine Corps. I was a grunt.”

“Welcome home, Marine,” I said.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an Army chaplain.”

“A chaplain? Well, chaplain, let me tell you. I was saved finally in the 1980s, after finally giving in. I had run for a long time. I now run a Christian organization in Pennsylvania to reach veterans. We take guys out to hunt and fish and we give them what they don’t get from the world,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I said. I looked at his blue short-sleeve shirt. Over the left breast of his shirt was a logo with a pair of dog tags and a Scripture reference from Luke 5, and the name of his Christian ministry. And his cap had MARINES written on it.

We talked for several minutes. He told me of where he was in Vietnam, of his time being a grunt, of his unit, of how his whole life changed after Vietnam. He talked for some time about his brothers, guys that self-destructed after Vietnam, even after making it through the war.

It was coming back to the other wars afterwards that did many of his brothers in, he said. “That’s why I do ministry now,” he said, “to show them there’s an answer. I’ve lost too many.”

“Chaplain, can I give you something?”

“Sure, sir.”

He reached in his right pocket and came out with a coin. “I’d like you to have this. Thank you for what you do,” he said, gripping my hand.

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I think we’re in the same line of work. I really appreciate it.”

We could have talked more but I saw Jay, the hotel employee, looking at me from a counter nearby.

“I see the fellow I’m supposed to meet. I better go link up with him, sir,” I said.

“Understood, chaplain.”