Posted by Stanley Fracker on June 19, 2022:

I am posting Phil's "Faith Story" for all USMA Classmates and those who may have served with him. I believe you have to hear it to know Phil and why I hold him in highest regard. If you are a Christian, I feel he is the finest testament to how Jesus wants us to lead our lives. We "were once young and soldiers" growing up and playing soldiers as youngsters. Then we attended USMA - graduating in 1964 and 1967. We learned that playing soldier and being soldier are quite different. I was lucky and served without consequence. Phil had a life-changing experience on 12 May 1969. He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions on that date although he had no recollection of how he performed after the B40 round blew him off his track. What he contributed during those 50 plus years following his separation from service is truly remarkable in my mind. He kept his promise to God. He was a dedicated soldier to both God and his country. He truly lived the spirit of the USMA Code: Duty, Honor, Country. I cannot help but believe that those who were his classmates or served with him also found those endearing qualities in him. He always found a way to bring care and comfort to those around him - be it food, water, housing, empathy, love, understanding. He did whatever he could, for whomever he could, for as long as he could. We miss him terribly, but we sort of feel he's been called to serve in another manner. His work on earth is done. IMMANUEL LUTHERAN CHURCH FAITH STORY Phillip Michael Fracker Second Wednesday in Lent 03/09/2022 Like most of you who grew up Lutheran, I don't think there was a time that didn't believe in God that I didn't believe in Jesus or the Holy Spirit. No "Paul on the road to Damascus" event was necessary for me. Born in Jackson, baptized and confirmed at Trinity Lutheran Church downtown where I first heard raspy voiced Reverend Reidel cry out on Easter Sunday, "Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed!" My family were semi-regular attendees at the new Christ Lutheran Church when it was built in my hometown in Michigan Center, and where Susan and I were married nearly 55 years ago on June 10. A newly minted U.S. Army second lieutenant, our first posting was to the Armor School at Fort Knox, Kentucky, for armor basic training, then on to Fort Hood, Texas, for my first assignment, and where our son Dan was born on July 24, 1968. For just about everyone in military service at that time, the question for us was, not if, but when will I be posted to Viet Nam? We received a reprieve for a while because my big brother Stan was a staff officer (S-1) with the 7/1 Air Cavalry in the Central Highlands, and he had not completed his tour. I believe because of a military regulation out of the Second World War that siblings would not serve in the same combat zone at the same time, my time to serve there was delayed for about a year. At any rate, about the time Stan received his orders to come home, I got mine to go. We moved our little family to my grandparents� house next door to my folks where we had some time together before my long flight to San Francisco and a much longer flight to Nam. I arrived in February and, after some administrative work for a month or two, I was assigned as the Headquarters Company Scout Platoon Leader of the 2nd Battalion, (Mechanized), 47th Infantry Regiment, of the 9th Infantry Division, the "Old Reliables" down in the Mekong River delta, southwest of Saigon. It was here in a little village called Thu Thua on May 12, 1969, that I experienced my "faith story" Now, we know that faith stories occur every day, where our faith is encouraged and bolstered, and strengthened by prayer, Scripture, Sacrament, Sunday School, and the like. But sometimes we have that one event that is so powerful, so meaningful, that it can be recalled at later times as the most intense, most convincing, most reassuring, that you just know the truth of God. This is mine. I have been convinced of three things from that day: We do not have to be afraid of death, or of anything. We can know that nothing can separate us from God's love. We can see the face of God even now. That fateful morning, I received a radio call from our Battalion Commander that a large North Vietnamese unit had infiltrated Thu Thua the night before. Our platoon, along with all other fighting units were ordered to the village where we took up online positions in our armored personnel carriers, or "tracks", as we called them, about 200 yards out on the east side of the village. This was the dry season, so rice paddies were not filled with water. We waited while women carrying children walked out of the village. I could hear the buzz of rifle bullets overhead. As soon as the women cleared our lines, our platoon was ordered to charge toward a red smoke flare to engage the enemy. Now, when we were kids, Stan and I saw many cavalry movies that played at the Capitol or Michigan Theaters. We were thrilled with calvary charges. I was not thrilled with this one. My attention was focused on the tree line in front of us from which we were taking enemy fire. I saw in front of me what appeared to be a periscope from an enemy sniper. I fired my rifle in that direction. Threw a grenade at him. Then, what seemed like huge mechanical jaws from what I learned later was shrapnel from a B40 rocket grenade grabbed my left side and threw me off the top of the track. While I was in the air, I remember screaming, "Lord, save me." "Lord, save me." I was lying on my back, face to the sky. I could hardly breathe. I was afraid that an NVA soldier would come running out of the tree line and kill me while I was helpless on the ground. I thought I was going to die. Then, while lying looking up at what appeared to be a completely white sky, I felt an indescribable sense of peace. Everything was blocked out, no noise, no movement, just peace. And the thought came to me, "Now I'll find out what Jesus really looks like." Now, I know medical people will tell me that I just went into shock, and that's what normally happens, and it's true. But I think it's more than that. I think shock is a gift from God, a blessing, to bring peace and comfort to those who would otherwise be in terror for their lives. Then I thought of Susan . . . and Dan, and how much I wanted to get back home to them. How much I wanted to live. And, I started to bargain with God. I promised God that, if I were allowed to live, I'd become a pastor, or maybe a chaplain and come back into the Army and serve that way. Well, you can see that didn't happen! After a short while, I began to feel the pain in my side, and hear noises, and I was coming back. I heard voices behind me and one said, "He's dead." A few years ago, a fellow named John Brummel, reached out to Susan and me. He was from the west side of Michigan and he was in the same platoon as me, and who became essentially the regimental historian. Through him I learned quite a bit about the two-day battle that was Thu Thua, and that one of the voices I heard was from a medic named "Boxie" who, even after being wounded himself, pulled me out and loaded me in a medivac helicopter that flew me to Saigon. All of my crew were wounded. The one who had died was Staff Sergeant Alvin Hinson, a career soldier, who at age 33, left a wife and two daughters. I had a broken arm at the elbow, two broken ribs, and a punctured lung. After "patching up" I was transferred to a hospital in Japan, where, for the first and only time, I read the Bible from cover to cover. In these latter days, I just haven't been inclined to reread Deuteronomy or Leviticus. From Japan I was transferred stateside to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, for further recuperation. I completed my military career at Fort Knox teaching small unit tactics, some lessons of which I wish I had learned better before going to Viet Nam. It was there that we were blessed with our younger son who had the audacity to serve over 20 years in the Navy! I tried to keep my bargain with God and attended Trinity Seminary in Columbus, Ohio, but, alas, found it wasn't for me, and, so far at least, I don't think God has held it against me. Thank God for our Pastor Kate and all the Pastors who have served us here at Immanuel who did and do follow through on their promises of pastoral care. God did save me for life so long ago, and I am grateful, so grateful. I was not afraid to die on that battlefield long ago, and I am not afraid to die now, but I don't want to go yet. I have been given the lovely Susan in holy matrimony these 55 years. I have seen my "boys" grow to "honorable manhood" and take strong, intelligent, beautiful women to start families of their own. And they have given us three wonderful grandchildren, one of whom is indelibly inscribed on our hearts, and two who are doing so now in their generation. And I am grateful for you the church in this place, the church of "God with Us", where we are daily reminded as St. Paul proclaims in our lesson, that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ, our Lord! Not war, not famine, not poverty, not injustice, not disease, . . ., not death! Fear not! Do not be afraid! "God is with us!" God will not leave us to starve. God will not abandon us. With this knowledge and this hope, we can boldly go and serve where the saints have gone before. These last few weeks as I've been preparing to share this story I've been amazed by the number of times I've seen references to the face of God, the face of Jesus. Just last week there was the Transfiguration story. I've seen other Scriptural references to the face of God. For a number of weeks there was a picture of Jesus on the kiosk who looks somewhat different than the blond haired, blue eyed, long robed Eurocentric hippie Jesus, the iconic Jesus, not that there's anything wrong with that. This Jesus was darker skinned with short hair and a short beard, better representative in my opinion of a strong Jewish carpenter from Galilee. The Old Testament prophet Isaiah says there is nothing remarkable or "comely" about the coming suffering servant, the Messiah that would attract us to him. Not a member of the Hallmark stable of stars in other words. And yet, I believe we now see the face of God, of Jesus, "what he really looks like", though dimly as in a mirror as St. Paul writes. We see him in each other. We see him in the "least and the lost". We see his face in the lonely and the despairing. And we are moved to help, to lift up, to bring justice, and kindness, and to walk humbly. As Jean Val Jean sings in Les Miserables, ". . . to love another person is to see the face of God." When I have the opportunity to pray at the pantry, I pray, "Make us to see your face in those whom we serve, and with whom we serve." It makes our service personal and communal. Thanks for the opportunity to share my story. I look forward to other faith stories in the coming weeks. God Save Ukraine!

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