Near Death Experience

On Nov 11, 1985, I died.

That’s what the doctor informed me later.

At the time of my experience I was a practicing alcoholic and had been consuming between a pint and a quart of whisky (mostly bourbon) every day.

On the day I “died,” I consumed around between a quart and half gallon of vodka, gin, scotch and bourbon.

In my defense, I was upset.

Anyway, I passed out around 2 PM and fell into my bathtub.  I woke up sometime the next morning in the emergency room where I learned later the doctors had given up on me and stated I was in a fatal coma. My blood alcohol level was 0.55% whereas the legal limit for driving while intoxicated was 0.01%. 

I have since learned that if anyone has a blood alcohol level of over 0.45%, they are considered to be in a fatal coma and will not recover.

Somehow, I did wake up,

I entered a recovery program and so far, I have not taken another sip of alcohol since November 11, 1985.

I went on to finish my Air Force career in 1990 and have been operating my consulting business ever since.

Many people have asked me what I experience during my Near Death Experience.

Other than some memories of being somewhere where the colors were more vivid than ever before or since and some other vague memories, I don’t have very clear memories.

I have been curious and done some reading on the subject.  

When writing the story of a lone fighter pilot facing seven armed Iranian fighters in air to air combat, I made it interesting by having my protagonist, Harry Miles, undergone a Near Death Experience while evading deadly air to air missiles.

I think it made it even more exciting, but I will have to leave it up to the readers to judge.

If you want to check it out, my book, REDEMPTION, is available exclusively on Amazon Kindle and as a paperback.

If you are a member of Kindle Unlimited, can read it for FREE!

You can order it here!

Lee Child’s Jack Reacher becomes a series and it is looking GOOD.

Am I the only one excited about the upcoming Reacher series on Amazon Prime?

I am waiting for Feb 4^th when Amazon unveils its new series Reacher on Amazon Prime. Here’s the trailer.

Back in 2012, I bought a little hard cover book entitled Jack Reacher Rules.

This volume is a collection of Jack Reacher-isms culled from all the books in the series.

I am currently re-reading this book while waiting for the series to air.

Here are a few excerpts form a section called, Jack Reacher’s moral code.

“I don’t want to put the world to rights. I just don’t like people who put the world to wrongs.”

“I try to do the right things. I think the reasons don’t really matter. I just like to see the right thing done.”

“You don’t start fights, but you sure as hell finish them, and you don’t lose them either.

If you are one of the people who are going to watch Reacher on Amazon Prime, I would recommend reading this book, Jack Reacher Rules,  so you can understand the mind of Jack Reacher.

by

Ed Benjamin

©1998

Speculation about the temporary janitor seemed to relieve the monotony and dreariness, which sometimes gripped the midnight shift of the children’s ward of the Nix Hospital in downtown San Antonio. Even though he was temporary and it was his last night, he mopped the floor carefully. As he made his way down the hall, it was evident he took pride in his work. His floors shone.

The curiosity over the quiet stranger waned after two weeks and Julie Kilpatrick and the other nurses began to occupy their thoughts over reports of sightings of the Virgin Mary. One report placed her in Tucson, another in Nueva Laredo, and another sighting was reported in Juarez. The news media had begun to report the sightings as a curious phenomenon of Columbus Day; a day that had arrived at midnight just after the nurses had begun their shift.

“Too bad she can’t help poor Angela”, Julie, the head charge nurse, commented.

Angela Garcia was a ten-year-old girl in Room 314 who seemed to have lost the will to live and was wasting away from a rare disease. Normally a skeptic, Julie wondered if miracles were really possible and while you’re at it, give that poor man some joy. She saw the janitor working on the floor near Angela’s room.

The door to room 314 opened and the man looked up. This was a new nurse. She beckoned him into the room. He had never seen this nurse before. He noted her radiant smile..

“Mr. King, I need your help.”

“How did you know my name?”

She smiled again.

“It’s on your name tag.”

The man went into the room. There was a scent of roses in the air.

He stood there in the room and looked around. There wasn’t any sign of any mess. He had assumed that the nurse wanted him to clean a mess of some sort. The young girl on the bed opened her eyes.

“Are you here to sing me my song?”

“No, I’m just the janitor.”

“But the nurse said you would come in and sing me a song.”

“I used to sing some, but I haven’t sung anything hardly in over twenty years.”

“Please sing for me.”

The man looked around; the nurse seemed to have disappeared. Then, he noticed a painting of the Virgin Mary on the wall. It didn’t seem to be there when he entered the room.

Down the hall, the music drifted past the nurses’ station.

“Somebody’s playing the radio. I haven’t heard him sing in years.”

“Where’s it coming from?”

“314, I think. I don’t have the heart to tell her to turn the radio off.”

“Well, let her finish this song, then I’ll go tell her to turn it off.”

Later, Julie walked down to check the room. The music had stopped. As she walked down the hall, she saw the janitor getting in the freight elevator. She waved goodbye; it was his last night. She noticed tears in his eyes.

She opened the door and looked in. That’s funny! No radio. Angela lay there sleeping with a smile on her face. There was a rose on the pillow next to her face. Julie instinctively knew that Angela had somehow turned a corner and would be okay.

The mystery puzzled Julie. Who had been playing the radio at three o’clock in the morning? And where?

Julie noticed a new painting on the wall. The painting depicted three ships. There was the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. In the painting, the Santa Maria, the “Saint Mary”, proudly led the other two as Columbus led his voyage of discovery. The Santa Maria gleamed in the early morning sun and above the ship, an image of the Virgin Mary floated in the sky.

In the meantime, the man headed for the bus station. It’s time, Elvis thought, to discover what my grandchildren are like.

The End

Author’s Note:

I never submitted this one for publication because I did not think any editor would buy it. It was close to Columbus Day in 1998 and I had to come up with something quickly for a writers group I had joined. This was the result. I hope you enjoyed this little story. I always like to write about the endurance and goodness of the human spirit. (Ed Benjamin)

If you liked this story, you might enjoy Melanie or Redemption

A young man discovers “The real me!” and finds his soul’s purpose.

By

Ed Benjamin

Several months after his entry into the United States Air Force, Harry was hot and bored. The heat radiating from the cement taxiway was easily 105 degrees, as forecasted. He had pulled the panel van serving as the crew bus outside the squadron briefing area and waited for the pilots to emerge. Sweat pooled under his armpits and he chafed underneath his heavy cotton fatigues.

“It would help if I could remove this damn fatigue shirt,” He thought, “but no, Sergeant Towne won’t allow it.”

He realized Sergeant Towne was not being a “hardass.” Regulations forbid him or the other drivers from removing their heavy cotton fatigue shirts. The small fan mounted underneath the dash helped some, blowing the hot air around towards Harry’s body offering some relief when it hit the sweat on his face offering a cooling effect.

He drank some more water. His Duty Sergeant had insisted all the drivers keep themselves hydrated. When he could, he would drip some water in his handkerchief and rub it around his face and neck.

“What a way to make a living! If I had waited until graduation, I would have at least been an avionics mechanic, provided I made it through tech school. There would be some work on the flight line, but most of the work would be in the Avionics shops where they had air conditioning.”

As the thunderous sound of a two-ship flight taking off blasted the sky, he saw the door swinging open from the pilot’s briefing room. He knew the two F-16 Falcons were headed toward a rendezvous with other aircraft over a training area somewhere.

He saw the four pilots exit the orderly room and head toward his crew bus. They called it the ‘bread truck’ because it reminded people of the panel van bakers delivered bread in with the exception the Air Force had installed benches along the sides for passengers. Once they climbed in, Harry put the ‘Bread Truck’ in gear and began to deliver them to their assigned aircraft where crew chiefs waited on the tarmac to assist them. As he drove, he could see the waves of heat emanating from the parking area.

“At least I am sitting inside this van. It’s better than pounding the flight line I would hate to be a crew chief taking care of the airplanes.”

For a moment or two, Harry wondered how it would be working on the airplanes with the heat blistering up through the leather soles of his feet.

As always, he listened to the banter of the aircrews as he drove the truck and delivered them to their assigned aircraft.

At first, they seemed to speak in a mysterious code. They never referred to each other by name but used names, such as “Snake,” “Fury,” “Tugs,” “Fang,” “Viper,’ and so forth. Over time, he learned these were ‘Tactical Call Signs,’ used to identify each other both in the air and on the ground.

The process by which they acquired these call signs remained a mystery.

On the bus, they seemed to give each other a hard time, but in a lighthearted way.

“Watch your ass, Snake.”

“Remember what happened last time, Fang, so watch your six once we enter the area or you’re toast today.”

The one called Fang, grinned, his eyes crinkling, replied, “Don’t worry, I’m always ready.”

Harry liked the one called Fang. He always took the time to thank Harry when he exited the van.

Harry dropped them off at the aircraft and headed back toward his dispatch area. His shift was almost over. He had a plan. He has almost resolved the debt to the funeral director. He had been sending the funeral director extra payments to pay down his debt. The debt was almost resolved.

He had squirreled away some cash and decided he wanted to see what the fuss was all about.

❋

Harry hurried back to the dormitory room he shared with another airman and changed into blue jeans and a shirt. His roomie put down the book he was reading and asked,

“Harry, want to catch a movie tonight? They are replaying Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince!”

Sam was an avid Harry Potter fan.

“No thanks. Sam, I got plans tonight. Maybe next week. How many times have you seen the movie?”

“Sure, Harry, catch you later. I’ve only seen it four times, This will be my fifth.” Sam left.

After changing, Harry ran over to the Dining Hall and grabbed a hamburger from the quick order line. He then headed to the bus stop and began the journey to a small private airstrip outside Phoenix.

This evening, with an extra hundred dollars in his pocket, he was determined to resolve his curiosity and see what this flying was all about. Harry had flown twice before on commercial flights—once when he enlisted, and the Air Force flew him from Raleigh to San Antonio for basic training, and then again, the Air Force had flown him from San Antonio to Phoenix. Although he had been excited about his first airline flights, he did not understand what all the fuss was about. To him, it was a glorified bus.

As the bus traveled toward his destination, he noted the paper on McCain/Palin billboard beginning to shred, the election being a couple of years past.

When he arrived at the small Air Base Operations, he walked in the office area. An older man sat in a chair; his feet propped up on an old metal desk.

The older man asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Harry Miles. I’m supposed to meet Jim Farris here for a flight.”

The older man motioned toward the back of the room. “Yeah, he’s here. Just went to the crapper. Be out in a sec. They did tell you it’ll be a hundred dollars cash, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, “but I was wondering if you gave a military discount.”

“Nice try, kid. No military discounts. Okay, while we’re waiting for Jim to finish stinking up the crapper, we can take care of the fee now.”

The older man put his feet down and began filling out some paperwork. He took Harry’s money and then gave him a receipt. After they finished, Harry sat on a bench and two or three minutes later, Harry heard a toilet flush. Then a man emerged from the back. He appeared to Harry to be about forty years of age with grey tinged sideburns and a black stubble of beard.

“Jim,” the older man exclaimed, “meet Harry. He’s your six o’clock.”

“He’s late,” Jim exclaimed, “it’s more like six thirty.”

Harry started to explain, “Sir, the bus was late….”

The older man interrupted, “Jim, quit your bellyaching. You’ve been in the crapper for over fifteen minutes, don’t give this kid any more shit.”

Jim grinned at the older man, gave him the finger, and winked at Harry. The wink highlighted his black and grey bushy eyebrows.

He nodded his head for Harry to follow him and led Harry over to a Cessna 172 parked near the office. Jim started looking around the plane, opened the engine compartment, checked the oil in the engine, and spent some time tugging on the flight control surfaces.

He then escorted Harry to the right side of the plane and made certain Harry was strapped in. He handed Harry some earphones with a microphone attached and showed Harry how the intercom worked.

Jim then climbed in the left-hand seat and started the engine. He started talking on the radio and flipped a switch. Harry heard a variety of communications over the earphones.

“Aircraft Niner 91452 beginning taxi.” Harry had seen Jim’s lips moving and deduced the airplane he and Jim were in was Aircraft Niner 91452.

“Metro 5632 landing.” Harry noticed a two-engine plane approaching and landing on the runway.

By this time, Jim had taxied to the edge of the runway. Harry noticed a mixture of numbers adorning the asphalt. Then Harry felt Jim’s hand on his shoulder. Then Jim’s voice came over the intercom. “No tower here, Harry. We must be careful we’re not impeding traffic. We’ll be announcing takeoff when we’re clear.”

Jim craned his neck to look at the approach path to ensure no traffic was about to land.

“Aircraft Niner 91452 on active,” Jim announced as he taxied the plane onto the runway.

The small engine revved up. The small craft vibrated a bit while the engine spun up. Jim release his foot off the brake pedal. The aircraft began its roll down the runway.

Looking out the windshield. the trees on the edge of the runway flew past merging into a running band of green. The concrete of the runway rushed by underneath. Then the pilot pulled the yoke back and the craft lifted into the air, the wind whistling past the cabin.

Whoosh!

Instantaneously, Harry’s stomach unwound. He felt lightheaded. He didn’t remember much about the rest of the flight. It was a blur. A sense of freedom engulfed him. He felt connected. His detachment from life evaporated.

Whoosh!

His eyes widening, in that instant, Harry felt part of the sky. His ability to sense the entire environment around him rushed into his consciousness, and he pictured himself in the plane in the sky with other planes flying around. It was as if he were outside the airplane taking in the entire panorama. He suddenly felt he was home and a voice bubbling up from deep within his soul told him.

“This Is The Real Me!”

His mental ability to see his surroundings kicked in and in one part of his mind, Harry was able to visualize his plane flying – almost as if he were outside the plane with a separate vantage point – in the environment.

At that moment, he knew he wanted to be able to fly more than anything. Flying seemed to alleviate some of the loneliness he felt. It was not just a deep desire, but a deep need – an obsession. His very being validated the truth of the statement, “the heart wants what the heart wants.” He would not be satisfied until it became a reality.

He scraped together some cash and paid for the Ground School and completed it.

He soon discovered he could not afford the remainder of the flying lessons. He thought about getting an off-duty job so he could afford flying lessons but after looking at the situation and paying more attention to the conversations of the pilots as he ferried them back and forth from the orderly room to the planes, he hit upon a different approach.

In a flash, he knew what he had to do. He would get the Air Force to pay for his flying lessons.

❋

From the moment he had flown that flight in the Cessna, Harry’s soul began to understand flying may take him on a journey which could make him whole again. He felt he might be close to finding family again.

❋

Harry struggled to get the Air Force to agree to his plan. At first, it seemed impossible, then only daunting, then just difficult, and he kept at it until he eventually succeeded.

That desire to fly had entered the core of his being and would not let him focus on anything else until it became a reality.

He found out the Air Force had a program where enlisted members with high school diplomas could apply to attend the Air Force Academy. Sparked by that inner desire, Harry pushed himself to study, attend night school, and receive his High School General Equivalency Diploma. Armed with his High School diploma, he applied for the Academy.

Initially, the Air Force refused his application, but Harry persisted. He applied again. Finally, the Air Force approved his application with the proviso he first attend the Air Force Academy Prep School, a one year program designed to improve his math and science skills. Harry put up with the year at the Prep School, then four years at the Academy.

While at the Academy, he underwent a program called Initial Flight Screening where he learned to fly a single engine turboprop aircraft and he soloed. After leaving the Academy, he went to undergraduate flight training graduating at the top of his class. Afterward, he completed his F-15 fighter training.

He excelled in flying. The Air Force called his mental mindset enabling him to see the whole picture while flying in mock combat “situational awareness.”

Initially, he had marveled at the fact. “They had a name for it.”

The Air Force not only recognized his natural affinity to visualize air battles; they honed it like a razor-sharp knife into a finely tuned ability.

Some of his fellow fighter pilots called him “lucky.” Others just said he was “intuitive,” but they all admitted he was hard to defeat in their constant training to see who would prevail in aerial combat. If there had been a vote on which pilot they would fly into combat with, Harry was a top pick.

❋

Eleven Years After Enlisting

Eleven years after he enlisted in the Air Force, he found himself as part of a two ship Combat Air Patrol, often called a “CAP,” flying a route along the Iran/Iraq border. He flew his F-15C Eagle fighter plane armed with medium and short-range air to air missiles, a 20-millimeter Gatling gun, various countermeasures in case he found himself in a deadly air battle. He and his other pilots were aware the Iranians were flying similar missions on their side of the border. They did not expect to engage in conflict but continued this cat and mouse game just in case.

❋

Harry not only succeeded in getting the Air Force to pay for his flying lessons, but along the way, he picked up a surrogate family, his brothers and sisters-in-arms in the Air Force.

His time as an enlisted airman, a student at the USAF Academy Prep School, his four years at the Academy, his fighter pilot training, and his service as a line fighter pilot in a squadron all contributed to the sense of belonging which he felt as a member of the Air Force.

He enjoyed the camaraderie with his fellow fighter pilots, the intense training, the mock air battles, and the feeling they were joined in serving a common cause.

He felt he belonged.

He had a family. He knew he was living his life as “the real me.”

The End

Thank you for reading this story.  I hope you enjoyed it.

It is actually Chapter Two of my novel, “Redemption,” and if you are interested in knowing more about Harry’s mother – of – all – air – battles and the aftermath; you can visit the Amazon sales page here.

I have been reading a book entitled “The Jealousy Man and Other Stories” by Norwegian writer Jo Nesbo. I have been a long-time fan of Jo Nesbo who wrote (and hopefully is still writing) the Harry Hole detective series.

These short stories share one thing in common — they are off-center, even bizarre. From the title story, “The Jealousy Man,” to the end game story “Black Knight,” they all share the unexpected.

At times, some of the stories seem stilted and I think part of that is due to the translation from the Norwegian and the other reason is that is because that is the way the author intended.

Regardless, I am a fan.

When I received news of the passing of Colin Powell, like many Americans, I mourned.

Then, It reminded me of my brief association with Air Force General Daniel “Chappie” James, the first African American four-star general in the United States Air Force.

I knew “Chappie” James, although when we served together, I was a Captain and James was a full Colonel serving as the Vice Commander (second in command) of the 33^rd Tactical Fighter Wing at Eglin Air Force Base in the Florida panhandle. When we talked, I addressed him as “Sir,” not “Chappie.”  He called me whatever he wanted to – but mainly addressed me as “Captain.” I was not assigned to the Fighter Wing, but served as the commander of a small detachment providing technical training to the Fighter Wing aircraft maintenance technicians. 

Colonel James had achieved fame in Air Force circles because prior to his assignment at Eglin, he had served as the Deputy Commander for Operations and later as Vice Commander at Ubon Royal Thai Air Force Base, Thailand. He served there under Colonel Robin Olds. Both in their mid-40s, they formed a legendary flying team nicknamed “Blackman and Robin” while flying combat mission.

Disturbed by the losses incurred by F-105 Thunderchief fighter bombers flying bombing mission over North Vietnam, Colonels Olds and James hatched a plan, known as “Operation Bolo,” which came to fruition on January 2, 1967.  Vietnamese MIG-21s flew faster and were more maneuverable than the F-105s and U.S, losses of F-105 airplanes and pilots were heavy.  On the day of the mission, Blackman and Robin led flights of F-4 Phantom II fighters along routes normally flew by the slower fighter bombers, flew at the same speeds as the Thunderchief aircraft, used the F-105 radio call signals. When the North Vietnamese MIG – 21s came up to attack the plodding Thunderchief aircraft, they found many flights of Phantoms waiting. The F-4 Phantoms flew in a coordinated staggered pattern to ensure the MIGs would face flights of Phantoms while trying to attack what they believed were slower F-105 aircraft. Other Phantoms from other bases flew in areas near the North Vietnamese air bases to refuse the MIGs the opportunity to escape. 

In the resulting air battle, Olds and James and the rest of the American fighters destroyed seven Communist MIGs, the highest total kill of any mission during the Vietnam War.

In my duties as a member of the training detachment supporting the fighter wing, I had occasion to brief Colonel James several times. Later I learned I would receive a visit from Major General McNabb, who commanded Sheppard Air Force Base, my headquarters. As required, I invited both Colonel Jones, the Commander of the 33^rd Fighter Wing and his deputy Commander, Col James, to attend a briefing I would present to General McNabb. Normally, at these briefings, only one would attend. After my briefing, it was customary for my visiting dignitary to ask the customer how we were doing in our support mission.

Major General McNabb arrived at night and in the morning, before picking him up, I learned the Inspector General had launched an Operational Readiness Inspection or ORI. The ORI tested the wing as to how it would perform during wartime conditions. The wing informed me, because of the ORI, my technical training classes would be canceled and that nobody would be attending the briefing. I was disappointed on one hand, but canceling classes gave me the opportunity to invite my Noncommissioned Officer technical instructors, the Sergeants who did the work, to attend the briefing with the “big boss.”

Having endured many ORIs in his rise to general officer status, General McNabb understood why nobody from the Fighter Wing would attend and welcomed the opportunity to interact more fully with the Sergeant instructors.

I conducted the briefing in a classroom which had large double doors to roll the training engine inside the classroom when needed.  As I was in the middle of my briefing to General McNabb, the double doors burst open, the legendary “Chappie” James burst into the room at a fast pace. He was a man with a large frame, and I, and others, often wondered how he even fit into the cockpit of the F-4.

Colonel James began regaling General McNabb with praise about the services my training detachment provided the wing. In his brief remarks, Colonel James mentioned several of the instructors by name and heaped praise on all the members of the training detachment.  He had done his homework.  Then he left, telling the General he needed to get back “to the war.”

From that moment on, every member of the detachment, including myself, would have followed Colonel James to the gates of hell.

Later, I learned when as the Wing Commander of the fighter wing in Libya, Colonel James went “mano-a-mano’ with Colonel Mohammar Qaddafi at the front gate of the American Air Base. Qaddafi started to reach for the pistol he kept in a shoulder holster and Colonel James pointed his finger and told Colonel Qaddifi not to move his hand. James later remarked, “If he had pulled that gun, his hand would have never cleared the holster.”

When I heard the story, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, had Colonel Qaddafi not backed down, every member of the air wing would have followed Colonel James to the depths of hell and stopped Qaddiffi from unlawfully entering the air base.

Daniel James was an Air Force legend because he exemplified leadership, plain and simple, and it was my privilege to have served with him briefly during my Air Force career. 

Did you ever wish you knew your Grandmother’s life story?

Last year for Christmas, I received a journal where I answered guided prompts about my life for my grandson.

As I began to fill out the journal, I realized I did not know anything about my maternal grandmother who passed when I was 12 years old. My paternal grandmother had died when my father was seven, so I know nothing about her or my maternal grandfather as well.

My grandmother had a lingering illness before she passed, and I remember I slept in the same room as her when I visited. But sadly, we never talked about her life and the events which formed her life. I never really got to know her or about her life at all.

I thought about this for a while and decided to create some journals for people to gift their grandmother.

I created two types of journals for Grandmother or Grandma, if you prefer. 

The first type is a journal with guided prompts where Grandma answers questions about her life.

I divided each journal into six sections with numerous questions in each section. When Grandma fills the journal out, it will become a mini autobiography of a grandmother’s life.

Section One – Early Years

Section Two – Growing Up

Section Three – Adulthood  

Section Four – Marriage and Motherhood

Section Five – Later Life

Section Six – Stories I Want to share

I am not the only one to come up with such journals.

There are some other guided journals which are very good notebooks or guided journals out there, but if you are interested in some of my offerings; here are the links.  P. S. They are all; basically the same with different covers.  

Tell Me Your Life Story, Grandma

Grandmother Remembers

Memories From Your Grandmother Journal for Grandchild

I also created another type of journal which may appeal to grandmothers. They are journals in which a grandmothers can express their feelings and ultimately gift to their grandchildren.

If you are interested, here is an example.

Letters to My Grandson

Redeeming Values

A month ago, when I was getting a haircut, I mentioned to my barber that my wife and I had recently streamed 3 seasons of a popular TV series which had aired on one of the cable TV networks.

I asked her if she had watched it and she politely informed me she had started watching the series but stopped because none of the characters in the drama had any “redeeming value.”

Recently, I reflected on those conversations and started thinking about Harry Miles.  Adopted by a family after his birth parents were killed in an automobile accident, Harry’s first experience with redeeming value occurred while a teenager when he learned a valuable lesson from his adoptive father, Morris.

Whenever Harry had faced a crisis in his teenage years, Morris had always advised Harry to “do the right thing.” Once when fourteen years old, Harry had shoplifted a Compact Disc (CD) from a store, he reacted differently than Harry had expected. When Morris found the CD and realized what Harry had done, he had not screamed or yelled at Harry. He sat Harry down and told him if Harry kept the CD, nothing would be done. He told Harry it was always important for Harry to make a choice. He pointed out to Harry.

Morris said, “The choice you make about this will determine how you will live his life after this. You’re going to have to be the one to decide what the right thing is and then decide if you want to ‘do the right thing.’ Neither Flo nor I can watch over you.”

Morris then told Harry early in his marriage, he had a problem with drinking.

Morris continued, “I had already cut down my drinking considerably, but there still were times I would drink heavily. When Flo and I were faced with the opportunity to adopt you and your sister, if we were to have any success with raising you and your sister, I realized the drinking would have to stop completely. I cleaned myself up and now the strongest thing I drink is a double expresso. It wasn’t easy, mind you, but I felt it was the right thing to do. Sometimes what you choose as the right thing to do is not easy, but once you make it a habit, it gets easier. I know Phil Blankenship who runs the store. He’s not going to miss the profit you caused him to lose by taking the CD but think about this. If more people did what you did, it might build up to such an amount, it could really hurt his business. Besides, how would you feel of someone took something of yours.”

After Harry had enlisted in the air force, he earned a chance to attend the Air force Academy Prep School for a year and then Harry attended the Air Force Academy for four years. During these five years, Air Force Academy embedded its Honor Code in Harry’s consciousness.

“We will not lie, steal or cheat, nor tolerate among us anyone who does.”

It is safe to say Harry had a code to live by – even after his choice to “do the right thing” after flying a daring mission over Iraq, his subsequent trails put his values to the test.

Did Harry make the grade. I think it’s up to the readers of my story, “Redemption” to find out.

If I have peaked your interest, I would invite you to find out.

If God grants me the time and ability to finish the Harry Miles series, many times in the future, Harry will be put to the test to “do the right thing.”  What will he do?

What do you think?