CHAPTER 4
Half an hour later, Theodor and Rafael hunched in a foxhole, clutching rifles. Theodor squirmed as dust settled on his face.
“It’s so hot—much hotter than it normally is this time of year,” he muttered, as he wiped beads of perspiration off his cheeks. “Except for the short-lived cold we endured till just the other day, it’s been unseasonably hot this month.”
Nodding, Rafael chuckled. His expression turned serious as he looked at his comrade. “Something is troubling you, and it’s not the weather.” He pulled a white cotton handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped his own perspiring face.
Theodor nodded, slumped against the hard-packed dirt wall of the foxhole. “You’re perceptive.” He scowled. “God called me to be an evangelist, right after the Rapture took place. One of 144,000 Jews called to that work, He told me. I’m supposed to be preaching the Gospel, not sitting here in this foxhole waiting to fight. My father is making my calling so difficult to complete right now.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then scratched his right ear.
Rafael nodded in understanding. He sat slouched, his khaki-clad legs crossed in front of him. “Just keep trusting God, Theodor. He is with us even now.” He leaned forward to touch Theodor’s shoulder; the feel of his hand calmed the young soldier. “The soldiers with us also need Him. Maybe God has allowed this so that you can share the Gospel with them.”
Theodor pondered that, then smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.” He leaned against the dirt wall that rose above his shoulder. “But unless God works on my father, even that is going to be extremely difficult.”
An answering, rueful smile spread across Rafael’s face. “I know. But God is able to soften hardened hearts.” He glanced upward. “Why don’t we pray? The fighting hasn’t started yet, so this is the best time to seek God’s help and guidance. Not only for the outcome of the fighting, but for your father as well.”
The two bowed their heads. Theodor prayed that God would open his father’s eyes and that He would protect the IDF army, including Rafael and himself. When they raised their heads, a horrible thought struck Theodor.
“My father usually takes more precautions than this when preparing for battle,” he said. “He didn’t spread out the soldiers to minimize injury—he’s got us set up in groups, clustered together.” Pulling himself up onto his knees, he scanned the other soldiers hiding in their own nearby foxholes and behind barriers they had hastily erected. Gray helmets sticking above the holes were all he could see.
“I can’t believe our drones and satellites failed to detect the Arabs’ movements—there must be a malfunction in them. Either that, or Iran has developed a system that jammed them.” He shook his head. “We’re all going to be really vulnerable when the shooting starts, close together like this.”
Rafael grimaced. “I noticed that. Your father’s a troubled man, amigo, and not only because you’ve received Jesus as your Messiah and preached Him to others. I suspect he’s being plagued by some bitter memories that are interfering with his judgment. He’s counting just a little too heavily on Puccini’s promised protection, too.”
Theodor grinned, in spite of his trepidation. “You know, in spite of being just a private, you have a remarkable insight into people!” The two laughed.
A shell exploded nearby; the two ducked their heads and grabbed their rifles. Suddenly, deafening rifle shots and cannon blasts assaulted their ears. The Arab soldiers had commenced their attack on the IDF. Theodor and Rafael perched on their knees and pulled the triggers on their rifles.
Minutes passed as Theodor and Rafael fired round after round at the enemy. Thick clouds of gunpowder soon obscured their view of the other soldiers. To Theodor’s dismay, many of his fellow privates died on the spot. All the while, to his relief, his father’s army truck stood at a distance, unharmed. Hopefully, they would be able to leave in it when the fighting ended.
This is awful! he thought. Nothing had prepared him for what was happening just then. The cannon blasts, the rifle shots, the shouts, the shrieks of injury, etc., all unnerved him. He wondered if he could stay calm and do his job. Is this how it was for my father?
A earsplitting rifle shot, followed by a return shot from Rafael, made him wince; he whirled to see his partner grasping his shoulder. Theodor dropped his rifle and leaned toward Rafael.
“Stay still!” he told the other soldier. “You’ve taken a hit! I’ve got to look at that wound.”
Rafael shook his head, face caked with dust and sweat. “It’s not bad—it can wait. You’d better keep shooting till it stops.”
Before Theodor could react, terrified shouts reached his ears. Leaping to his feet, he saw all the surviving IDF soldiers fleeing the scene of the battle. “Come back!” he hollered. “Come back!”
No one responded. To his horror, the army truck gunned its engine. “That’s my father!” he told Rafael. “He’s running off, too!” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he screamed, “No, Papá! Don’t leave us!!”
Inside the truck, General Agnon could not hear his son’s impassioned pleas. The hum of the engine drowned them out. Before he could leave the battlefield, the door swung open and Andrew hopped into the passenger side.
“Buckle up, Andrew—this is it! We’re leaving!” Amos ordered, pressing the lever that started the air-conditioner. Its hum added to that of the engine.
Reluctantly, Andrew did as he was told. He fastened his seat belt and leaned back against the soft, upholstered seat, cool air caressing his sweaty face. He did not want to leave the dying soldiers, but God had ordered him to stay with the general until further notice. Other angels of death, he had noticed, were escorting the souls of the soldiers who were dying. Amos slammed his foot on the accelerator, and the truck sped off.
As he gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white, a horrible memory flashed into Agnon’s mind—the moment several Arab soldiers had surrounded him, rifles aimed at his chest…the long, hot, exhausting march they’d subjected him to, till they finally reached a truck they used to transport him to a P.O.W. camp…the days he’d spent in a tiny, dank cell, with only a pile of straw crawling with lice in the corner of a cold stone floor…the vicious slaps, beatings, and tortures he’d endured at the hands of his captors. He desperately wanted to put it out of his mind, to forget it for all time. The thought of enduring such an ordeal now was more than he could face.
“Where were Puccini’s men?” he muttered under his breath. “Why didn’t they come?”
Back on the now-abandoned, silent battlefield, Theodor climbed out of the foxhole, followed by Rafael. He looked at the other soldier’s shoulder, then furrowed his eyes in amazement.
“You must have been remarkably lucky,” he said, rubbing his smudged hands on his pants legs. “Your shoulder should be bleeding, but I can see no sign of injury.”
Rafael smiled, then waved it off. He turned to scan the battlefield, now littered with dead soldiers. Powder drifted everywhere, creating an impression of fog on the horizon.
Wiping his sweaty face, Theodor bit his lower lip. He cradled his rifle against his chest. “My papá has left us.” He shook, then lowered his head. “Somehow, we’re going to have to find our own way back.”
Rafael nodded. “We will just have to walk back.”
A shout startled the two; a moment later, several Arab soldiers rushed toward them. They aimed their rifles at the two IDF soldiers’ chests. “This is it,” Theodor muttered to Rafael in an undertone. “We’re being taken prisoner.”
The nearest Arab soldier barked an incomprehensible order, waving his rifle sideways as he did so. “He’s telling us we’re their prisoners, and to drop our rifles. They want us to accompany them,” Rafael told Theodor. “We’ll have to do as we’re told.”
Reluctantly, the two soldiers dropped their rifles and raised their hands above their heads. The Arab soldiers marched them toward an army truck perched in the opposite direction from where General Agnon had parked his. Meanwhile, Andrew stood near the foxhole, watching. No one could see him; he had turned invisible. Amos had momentarily stopped the truck to get his bearings and collect his thoughts; Andrew would have to rejoin him in a moment.
Tumultuous emotions churned within Andrew, as he watched the scene. The other angels of death gathered around their charges; some assisted the souls of dead soldiers to their feet and escorted them off the battlefield. Andrew had no fear for Rafael, since the enemy could not harm him, but Theodor was another matter. While the angel of death knew that the 144,000 were supposed to survive until Jesus returned, he couldn’t help but wonder if Theodor would actually make it.
As a member of that group, he should, he thought, folding his arms across his chest. He must! I don’t want to take him Home.
Andrew raised his eyes toward Heaven. “Please, Father,” he prayed, “rescue Theodor.”
Tess appeared next to him. “He will, Angel Boy. Don’t worry. Neither you nor any other angel of death will be taking him to Heaven.” She touched his arm. “Don’t worry about not being at liberty to escort any of the soldiers Home, either. Leave that in God’s hands—He’s got it covered.” She nodded toward the other angels of death as she spoke. One of them waved at her and Andrew; both waved back.
Tess turned back to Andrew, pausing as he nodded acquiescence. She looked him in the eyes. “It won’t be long, now, you know, till you’ll be on full-time duty as angel of death. So many people will be dying, this may well be your last casework assignment for the rest of the Tribulation. Better make the best of it and enjoy it while it lasts.” She wagged her finger for emphasis.
Andrew inclined his head again. He had suspected that was the case. “So—God wants me to focus on my current assignment.” He inserted his hands into his pants pockets.
“Yes.” Tess half-turned to look at the bodies behind them. The other angels had disappeared with the souls of the dead soldiers. “Let the other angels of death take care of these soldiers, and focus on Amos. He needs you now.” A commanding tone entered her voice. “Right now.”
Andrew acquiesced once more, then the two disappeared. Silence had descended over the battleground. All the bodies lay in clusters, here and there. A breeze waved the tips of the grass gently.
END OF CHAPTER 4