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<DIV><FONT size=2>Great story F</FONT><FONT size=2>rank, could be true...Things
like do happen.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2>Hows the new baby doing.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2>Dave</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2></FONT> </DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE
style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px">
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial">----- Original Message ----- </DIV>
<DIV
style="BACKGROUND: #e4e4e4; FONT: 10pt arial; font-color: black"><B>From:</B>
<A title=gcfl-discuss@gcfl.net
href="mailto:gcfl-discuss@gcfl.net">gcfl-discuss@gcfl.net</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>To:</B> <A title=sdmheit@verizon.net
href="mailto:sdmheit@verizon.net">Shirley Heit</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Cc:</B> <A title=gcfl-discuss@gcfl.net
href="mailto:gcfl-discuss@gcfl.net">Discussion of the Good, Clean Funnies
List</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Sent:</B> Friday, May 21, 2004 6:09 PM</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Subject:</B> [GCFL-discuss] Greater Love hath
no man</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV class=RTE>
<P>Maybe this is what we must do to gain salvation. </P>
<P>Frank<BR></P></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>No Greater Love
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>I heard this story when I was in Vietnam, and it was told to me as
fact.
<DIV></DIV>I
<DIV></DIV>have no way of knowing for sure that it is true, but I do know that
<DIV></DIV>stranger things have happened in war.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Whatever their planned target, the mortar rounds landed in an
orphanage
<DIV></DIV>run by a missionary group in the small Vietnamese village. The
<DIV></DIV>missionaries
<DIV></DIV>and one or two children were killed outright, and several more
children
<DIV></DIV>were wounded, including one young girl, about eight years old.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>People from the village requested medical help from a neighboring
town
<DIV></DIV>that
<DIV></DIV>had radio contact with the American forces. Finally, an American
Navy
<DIV></DIV>doctor and nurse arrived in a jeep with only their medical kits.
They
<DIV></DIV>established that the girl was the most critically injured. Without
quick
<DIV></DIV>action, she would die of shock and loss of blood.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>A transfusion was imperative, and a donor with a matching blood
type was
<DIV></DIV>required. A quick test showed that neither American had the correct
<DIV></DIV>type,
<DIV></DIV>but several of the uninjured orphans did.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>The doctor spoke some pidgin Vietnamese, and the nurse a smattering
of
<DIV></DIV>high-school French. Using that combination, together with much
impromptu
<DIV></DIV>sign language, they tried to explain to their young, frightened
audience
<DIV></DIV>that unless they could replace some of the girl's lost blood, she
would
<DIV></DIV>certainly die. Then they asked if anyone would be willing to give
blood
<DIV></DIV>to
<DIV></DIV>help. Their request was met with wide-eyed silence. After several
long
<DIV></DIV>moments, a small hand slowly and waveringly went up, dropped back
down,
<DIV></DIV>and then went up again.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>"Oh, thank you," the nurse said in French.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>"What is your name?"
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>"Heng," came the reply.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Heng was quickly laid on a pallet, his arm swabbed with alcohol,
and a
<DIV></DIV>needle inserted in his vein. Through this ordeal Heng lay stiff and
<DIV></DIV>silent.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>After a moment, he let out a shuddering sob, quickly covering his
face
<DIV></DIV>with
<DIV></DIV>his free hand.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>"Is it hurting, Heng?" the doctor asked. Heng shook his head, but
after
<DIV></DIV>a
<DIV></DIV>few moments another sob escaped, and once more he tried to cover up
his
<DIV></DIV>crying. Again the doctor asked him if the needle hurt, and again
Heng
<DIV></DIV>shook
<DIV></DIV>his head.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>But now his occasional sobs gave way to a steady, silent crying,
his
<DIV></DIV>eyes
<DIV></DIV>screwed tightly shut, his fist in his mouth to stifle his sobs. The
<DIV></DIV>medical
<DIV></DIV>team was concerned. Something was obviously very wrong. At this
point, a
<DIV></DIV>Vietnamese nurse arrived to help. Seeing the little one's distress,
she
<DIV></DIV>spoke to him rapidly in Vietnamese, listened to his reply and
answered
<DIV></DIV>him
<DIV></DIV>in a soothing voice.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>After a moment, the patient stopped crying and looked questioningly
at
<DIV></DIV>the
<DIV></DIV>Vietnamese nurse. When she nodded, a look of great relief spread
over
<DIV></DIV>his
<DIV></DIV>face.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Glancing up, the nurse said quietly to the Americans, "He thought
he was
<DIV></DIV>dying. He misunderstood you. He thought you had asked him to give
all
<DIV></DIV>his
<DIV></DIV>blood so the little girl could live."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>"But why would he be willing to do that?" asked the Navy nurse.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>The Vietnamese nurse repeated the question to the little boy, who
<DIV></DIV>answered
<DIV></DIV>simply, "She's my friend."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for a
<DIV></DIV>friend.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Col. John W. Mansur
<DIV></DIV>Condensed from "Missileer"
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV></DIV><BR clear=all>
<HR>
<A href="http://g.msn.com/8HMBENUS/2743??PS=47575">Learn to simplify your
finances and your life in Streamline Your Life from MSN Money.</A>
<P>
<HR>
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