Thursday, October 8, 2009

A Letter from Michael

St. Michael the Archangel, the patron saint of police officers, is the leader of the legions of angels that fought Satan in heaven and forced them out. He is my patron saint. Here is a letter, supposedly written home from a Marine who was wounded on the battlefield during the Korean War.

I don't know if this is real or if someone just wrote it--but I like it the same.

Dear Mom,

I wouldn't dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else would believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard but I have got to tell somebody.

First off, I am in a hospital. Now don't worry, ya hear me, don't worry. I was wounded but I am okay you understand. Okay. The doctor says that I will be up and around in a month.

But that is not what I want to tell you.

Remember when I joined the Marines last year; remember when I left, how you told me to say a prayer to St. Michael every day. You really didn't have to tell me that. Ever since I can remember you always told me to pray to St. Michael the Archangel. You even named me after him. Well I always have.

When I got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer that you taught me?

"Michael, Michael of the morning fresh crop of Heaven adorning, " you know the rest of it. Well I said it everyday. Sometimes when I was marching or sometimes resting. But always before I went to sleep. I even got some of the other fellas to say it.

Well, one day I was with an advance detail way up over the front lines. We were scouting for the Commies. I was plodding along in the bitter cold, my breath was like cigar smoke.

I thought I knew every guy in the patrol, when along side of me comes another Marine I never met before. He was bigger than any other Marine I'd ever seen. He must have been 6' 4" and built in proportion. It gave me a feeling of security to have such a body near.

Anyway, there we were trudging along. The rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start a conversation I said, "Cold ain't it." And then I laughed. Here I was with a good chance of getting killed any minute and I am talking about the weather.

My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh softly. I looked at him, "I have never seen you before, I thought I knew every man in the outfit."
"I just joined at the last minute", he replied. "The name is Michael."
"Is that so, " I said surprised. "That is my name too."
"I know, " he said and then went on, "Michael, Michael of the morning . . ."
I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How did he know my name, and a prayer that you had taught me? Then I smiled to myself, every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn't I taught the prayer to anybody who would listen. Why now and then, they even referred to me as St. Michael.

Neither of us spoke for a time and then he broke the silence. "We are going to have some trouble up ahead."
He must have been in fine physical shape or he was breathing so lightly I couldn't see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself, well with the Commies all around us, that is no great revelation.

Snow began to fall in great thick globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out. And I was marching in a white fog of wet sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

"Michael, " I shouted in sudden alarm.
I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, "This will stop shortly."
His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc.
I looked back for the rest of the patrol, there was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise.

Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them. Seven Commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn't anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us. "Down Michael, " I screamed and hit the frozen earth. I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing. Mom, those guys couldn't have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least, that was what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine. I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit, now I know.

I remember feeling strong arms about me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead, I remember thinking well, this is not so bad.
Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor.

As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again, but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an Angel. In his hand was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million lights.

Well, that is the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me. I do not know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment's rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

"Where is Michael, " I asked.

I saw them look at one another. "Where's who?" asked one. "Michael, Michael that big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us."

"Kid, " said the sergeant, "You weren't walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in when you disappeared in the snow."

He looked at me, curiously. "How did you do it kid?"

"How'd I do what?" I asked half angry despite my wound. "This Marine named Michael and I were just . . ."

"Son, " said the sergeant kindly, "I picked this outfit myself and there just ain't another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it."

He paused for a minute, "Just how did you do it kid? We heard shots. There hasn't been a shot fired from your rifle. And there isn't a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there."

I didn't say anything, what could I say. I could only look open-mouthed with amazement. It was then the sergeant spoke again, "Kid, " he said gently, "everyone of those seven Commies was killed by a sword stroke."

That is all I can tell you Mom. As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes, it may have been the cold or the pain. But that is what happened.

Love, Michael


  1. Devon R. "Duke" LoftinDecember 26, 2009 at 5:46 AM

    In all my nearly 37 years, I have never heard this. This is the most WONDERFUL, AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL story that I have ever read about the horrors and pain and suffering of war. I just wonder what would happen if something like this was read in every home, every Christmas. I had gotten very disillusioned with the concept of Christmas. When I was a child, sure the presents and the lights and all that were great, but the thing that I remember as being the most special to me was the time spent with my family. Looking back, of all the Christmases that I have lived, I remember this one in particular.....It was December 25, 2007 and I was newly married. My new bride and I had just returned from a honeymoon trip to the beach and then my hometown of Mobile, AL. One of the things we did while in Mobile was go to see my NaNa and PawPaw. They were unable to travel because of my grandfather's health and I knew that it might be the last time I saw him. Anyway, we went into his bedroom and he sat up on the side of his hospital bed and said, "come here Chris". I looked and there was noone in the room but me and Carey, my new wife. I walked over to him and said"Pop this is Carey, my new wife." He said "NO!!!! That is my wife Christine and he got very angry at me. I got mad and walked out and wouldn't go back in and see him, not even after dinner when Carey and I were leaving. Needless to say, I was really bummed out and upset because first of all I got angry with my PawPaw, and he was the WORLD to me as a boy and then as a young man, and second, because I had made my NaNa cry. Anyway, Christmas Day arrived, and Carey and I were at my mom and dad's house waiting for my brothers and their families to arrive. My cell phone rang. and I saw the number from Mobile. I looked at my dad and excused myself. I answered thinking it would be my NaNa or one of my aunts to wish me a Merry Christmas. I was shocked to hear PawPaw saying, "Hey Duke!!!!!, When are u gonna bring Carey down to meet me?" I told him that we had just been there a week ago and he didn't remember. Well, I got the chance to apologize to him for my anger and got to hear the strong, clear, and confident voice of him from my childhood. The last thing he said to me before we hung up was "Let me have ten, till I see you again." This was something he always said to me. I sent him a late Christmas card with a $10.00 bill in it. He died on January 11, 2008. The last thing I was able to do for him was be a pall bearer along with the honor guard that the Army sent to dohis military honors. My NaNa walked up to me after the service and handed me that same $10.00 bill and told me that the last thing he said to her was take this a take Duke and Carey to Morrison's for lunch since we couldn't go to the wedding. Duke will understand. I still have that $10.00 bill and will NEVER part with it. Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. You can now find a copy of the letter on You Tube.. with a commentary from the original reporter that reported with detials once can check for the original :

    "The young Marine was wounded in Korea and wrote to his mother it. I was on the air in Detroit when Ed Hardy, the news director of the station gave me a copy of the letter. I have read it on hundreds of radio and television stations. Ed now knows better than all of us. He passed away a few years ago. "A Letter From Michael" has impacted thousands of lives. The CD can be found at detroitradiolegends dot. I am happy to send to any service person no charge. Best Regards: Lee Alan -

  3. great letter we heard it on the radio was very moving. Found it now, so we can print it and send to people

  4. I've ALWAYS found this story to be AWESOME!!!