It was the chaos that only combat can produce. Friendly artillery fire was whistling over our heads. It was a “danger close” mission — occasional fragments raining down on us as we sought to break contact with the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) unit we had opened fire upon. It was at that moment I heard the radio transmission. “Ron, tell me what’s happening.”

It was the latter part of 1970, and I was assigned to “Golf CUPP” (Combined Unit Pacification Program). Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division operated in the Pacification Program, living in the villages with the Vietnamese people and fighting alongside the local militias. I was a Sergeant FO (Forward Observer), tasked with providing artillery fire support to the widely scattered units. I was taken to meet the company commander, Captain Bob Tilley, who spent (in my mind) an amazing amount of time with me — asking about my home, my family, my combat experience, and more. It made quite an impression on me.

Several months elapsed and I would move from unit to unit, going where the action was, using my skills in support of our operations. One night, we made a long patrol to an area we knew “Charlie” (the local Viet Cong guerrillas) was operating in. Sure enough, we caught them completely off guard and captured three Viet Cong without firing a shot. Feeling our Wheaties (Google that if you are under the age of 50), we headed back to our fire support base only to run into a large NVA unit, estimated to be a battalion. The unit had intended to move close to the fire base to launch an attack, and our running into it disrupted its plan. At that point we knew we were in deep trouble! We were engaged in a running gun battle that lasted for several hours. I carried three bandoliers of seven 30-round magazines for my M-16. When the fight was over, I only had seven rounds remaining in my last magazine.

As the battle began, I got on the radio to call in fire missions. To say that I was anxious would be an understatement! That’s when my captain got on the radio. “Ron, tell me what’s happening.” Having my captain calling me by my first name and calmly giving me instructions was incredibly reassuring. He stayed on the radio the entire time, simultaneously getting us much-needed support. We made it back without a single casualty.

In early July of 1976, I met the captain of my salvation, Jesus Christ. He appeared to Joshua outside of the walled city of Jericho and identified Himself as the captain (ESV: “commander”) of the host of the Lord (Joshua 5:13-14, KJV). In Hebrews 2:10, he’s called “the captain of [our] salvation” (KJV). Here’s the most amazing thing — He knows my name, and He calls me by name, and He guides me through all of life’s turbulence and the impossible circumstances I face. To use military terms, He is tuned in to my frequency! Not only that, but I have His phone number: “Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known” (Jeremiah 33:3, ESV).

Quite often we don’t make that call for help until we are truly desperate. I can tell you that I was desperate enough to call for help on that night in Vietnam. But like my captain in Vietnam, Jesus wants to talk to me all the time. He knows my name, and my circumstances, and my weaknesses, and my longings. He is my Lord, my counselor, and my friend. Friends talk — we don’t judge, and we don’t condemn. The captain of our salvation wants to spend time with us.

I was impressed that my captain in Vietnam took the time to get to know me. How much more to know that King Jesus, the Lord of the universe, cares for me even more! Have you called Him lately? What say ye, Man of Valor?