I would not classify myself as a coward and have, at times in my life, acted bravely in the face of danger. Most men, and increasingly more women, wonder—as did I in my youth—how they would respond when under the fire of enemy guns. It is an age-old question that cannot be answered until you are actually in a real life-and-death situation, and then, before you even have time to think about it, you have your answer.

My experience under fire was relatively short—three days of intense fighting in the lowlands of South Vietnam. Overall, I would say I did as well as any of my compatriots, and in fact, in the face of the enemy, some even considered me a hero. Before you start thinking I am on another one of my bragging sprees, however, I must tell you that there is another side to me that I am not so proud of, and talking about it, even today, can make me sick.

I suppose it is inherent in most of us, or perhaps it is put there by well-meaning parents: Respect your elders and your teachers. Obey the laws and your government officials. Serve your country and follow the orders of those in authority over you. Never question, never doubt, and do not judge, for GOD is in control and HE will punish the unjust. Good advice for Sunday school children, but the Marine Corps is not Sunday school, and although it demands the same blind faith and obedience to its officers as the church requires to its pastors, the price of breaking the code of conduct on the battlefield could be a friendly bullet in the back of your head.

Two incidents that occurred on the same day back in 1968 changed my life forever and set in motion a conflict that has been raging inside of me ever since. It got me court-martialed and has caused me to be fired from every job I have ever held. It hit me harder than any bullet ever could have and caused more internal damage than all of the bombs and mortars that were dropped around me. It ripped the innocence from my soul and forced me on an endless journey of recompense for a debt that cannot be repaid. I witnessed the murder of two children and did nothing to stop it.

What is it that makes us hesitate to get involved when we see one of those in authority over us doing something we know is wrong? Why do even brave men hesitate to stop a friend from doing evil? Why can we judge an enemy we have never met and determine he should die simply because he is our enemy, yet find it so difficult to judge a friend, even though we have witnessed his wrongdoings?

These questions have haunted me ever since that day when I was ordered not to treat the bleeding wounds of a young victim of our bombing. I obeyed like I was taught in Sunday school and watched him bleed to death in his mother’s arms, and all I needed to do was disobey the order and perhaps the child would be alive today. Later that same day, we captured a young boy with a green-colored shirt on. He said he had taken it from a dead man because he had no clothes of his own. The captain ordered him killed because headquarters had said we were not to take any prisoners that day, even though there was no evidence, other than the green-colored shirt, to suggest he was a soldier. I did nothing to stop them from dragging him away, and now I must see his horrified eyes pleading with me, day after day, to do something… but I can’t. And though I may help 10,000 others like him, I have to admit that I let him die because I was afraid to say, “STOP! You have no right to kill him.”

I don’t believe in violence, but I do believe in confrontation when it is against evil. Jesus did not start a rebel group to fight the evils of His day, but neither did he back down in the face of hypocrisy and wrongdoing. He called them on it, to their face, and then instructed us to do the same as He had done. I failed in my youth to follow His example and have had to pay a price. I have tried, since that time, to call people to accountability, but it has cost me every job I have ever held.

I still get discouraged at times when I see the greed and evildoings of selfish men and women in today’s world, but I find some solace in the knowledge that the flames of compassion that now burn in my heart for all of humanity will one day become the tormenting fires that will burn in the self-imposed hells of those who live solely for themselves.