Guardian Angel

Some people say our troops are heroes. Some people say we're lucky that our heroes are our troops.

Somewhere out there, a young man is visiting his family in mid-Michigan. He's wishing them a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year, because he won't be there to share it with them. He's getting together with his friends and visiting old haunts. He's telling his mom that he loves her and that he'll see her again, hopefully soon.

He won't be with them because he's in the United States Air Force, and will shortly be deployed to Iraq.

But on his way to or from his family one evening last week, he passed through the city of Flint. Perhaps he saw it happen. Perhaps he only saw what remained. But he stopped. He didn't need to; he probably had somewhere to be, and it was cold and snowing. But he stopped all the same. He could help, even if in some small way, and he wanted to help.

He pulled over in front of the wreckage of the car. He put on his military reflective vest and walked over to the driver, still trapped inside. He saw that she was conscious, but cold. He grabbed his space-blanket from his car and brought it to her and wrapped it around her. He called the police, an ambulance, and her family. He talked to her, kept her conscious, kept her alert. He called the police, an ambulance, and her family again. He told her about himself, to keep her talking. He asked her questions, engaged her answers. He made her comfortable. He kept her alive.

That young man, simply because he was there, stayed with her until the ambulance eventually took her to the hospital.

Right here, a young man is visiting his mom in southeastern Michigan. He's wishing her well, and a full recovery, and glad he can be there to share it. He's telling her he loves her and he's so grateful he gets to see her again.

To that young man, from this one, thank you. I hope to find you and tell you that you have another family who will be thinking of you while you're in Iraq, who are proud of you, and grateful to you. You are our hero.