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This is the true story of a Marine wounded at war...

    
Dear Mom,

    I am writing to you from a hospital bed. Don’t worry, Mom, I am okay. I was wounded, but the doctor says that I will be up in no time.

    But that’s not what I have to tell you, Mom. Something happened to me that I don’t dare tell anyone else for fear of their disbelief. But I have to tell you, the one person I can confide in, though even you may find it hard to believe.

    You remember the prayer to Saint Michael that you taught me to pray when I was little: “Michael, Michael of the morning,…” Before I left home for Korea, you urged me to remember this prayer before any confrontation with the enemy. But you really didn’t have to remind me, Mom. I have always prayed it, and when I got to Korea, I sometimes said it a couple of times a day while marching or resting.

    Well, one day, we were told to move forward to scout for Commies. It was a really cold day. As I was walking along, I perceived another fellow walking beside me, and I looked to see who it was.

    He was a big fellow, a Marine about 6’4” and built proportionally. Funny, but I didn’t know him, and I thought I knew everyone in my unit. I was glad to have the company and broke the silence between us:

    “Chilly today, isn’t it?” Then I chuckled because suddenly it seemed absurd to talk about the weather when we were advancing to meet the enemy.
He chuckled too, softly.

    “I thought I knew everyone in my outfit,” I continued, “ but I have never seen you before.”

    “No,” he agreed, “I have just joined. The name is Michael.”

    “Really?! That’s mine, too.”

    “I know,” the Marine said, “Michael, Michael of the morning….”

    Mom, I was really surprised that he knew about my prayer, but I had taught  it to many of the other guys, so I supposed that the newcomer must have picked it up from someone else. As a matter of fact, it had gotten around to the extent that some of the fellows were calling me “Saint Michael.”

    Then, out of the blue, Michael said, “There’s going to be trouble ahead.”

    I wondered how he could know that. I was breathing hard from the march, and my breath hit the cold air like dense clouds of fog. Michael seemed to be in top shape because I couldn’t see his breath at all. Just then, it started to snow heavily, and soon it was so dense I could no longer hear or see the rest of my outfit. I got a little scared and yelled, “Michael!” Then I felt his strong hand on my shoulder and heard his voice in my ear, “It’s going to clear up soon.” 

     It did clear up, suddenly. And then, just a short distance ahead of us, like so many dreadful realities, were seven Commies, looking rather comical in their funny hats. But there was nothing funny about them now; their guns were steady and pointed straight in our direction.

    “Down, Michael!!” I yelled as I dove for cover. Even as I was hitting the ground, I looked up and saw Michael still standing, as if paralyzed by fear, or so I thought at the time.

    Bullets were spurting all over the place, and Mom, there was no way those Commies could have missed at that short distance.

    I jumped up to pull him down, and then I was hit. The pain was like a hot fire in my chest, and as I fell, my head swooned and I remember thinking, “I must be dying…” Someone was laying me down, strong arms were holding me and laying me gently on the snow.

    Through the daze, I opened my eyes, and the sun seemed to blaze in my eyes. Michael was standing still, and there was a terrible splendor in his face.

    Suddenly, he seemed to grow, like the sun, the splendor increasing intensely around him like the wings of an angel.

    As I slipped into unconsciousness, I saw that Michael held a sword in his hand, and it flashed like a million lights.

    Later on, when I woke up, the rest of the guys came to see me with the sergeant.

    “How did you do it, son?” he asked me.

    “Where’s Michael?” I asked in reply.

    “Michael who?” The sergeant seemed puzzled.

    “Michael, the big Marine walking with me, right up to the last moment. I saw him there as I fell.”

    “Son,” the sergeant said gravely, “you’re the only Michael in my unit. I hand-picked all you fellows, and there’s only one Michael. You. And son, you weren’t walking with anyone. I was watching you because you were too far off from us, and I was worried.

    Now tell me, son,” he repeated, “how did you do it?”

    It was the second time he had asked me that, and I found it irritating.

    “How did I do what?”

    “How did you kill those seven Commies? There wasn’t a single bullet fired from your rifle.”

    “What?”

    “Come on, son. They were strewn all around you, each one killed by a swordstroke.”

    And that, Mom, is the end of my story. It may have been the pain, or the blazing sun, or the chilling cold. I don’t know, Mom, but there is one thing I am sure about. It happened.

    Love your son,

    Michael Signature

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Note: The above true story of a Marine wounded in Korea in 1950.  Father Walter Muldy, a navy chaplain who spoke to the young Marine and his mother as well as to the outfit commander, always affirmed the veracity of this narrative. We heard it from someone who read the original letter and retell the story here in all its details and in the first person to better convey some of the impact it must have had when first told by the son to his mother. 

 

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Here is the beautiful prayer to Saint Michael mentioned in the incredible story above. The prayer is also on our new St. Michael Shield Medal which can be ordered free with an optional donation! 

Click here to order your Free St. Michael Shield Medal today!


Michael of the Morning Prayer 
 

Michael, Michael of the morning,

Fresh chord of Heaven adorning,

Keep me safe today,

And in time of temptation

Drive the devil away.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

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Quote of the day

DAILY QUOTE for March 23, 2019

When we appeal to the throne of grace we do so through . ....

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March 23

 

When we appeal to the throne of grace
we do so through Mary,
honoring God by honoring His Mother,
imitating Him by exalting her,
touching the most responsive chord in the Sacred Heart of Christ
with the sweet name of Mary.

St. Robert Bellarmine


SATAN V. the Immaculate Conception  SIGN!

Saint of the day

SAINT OF THE DAY

St. Toribio of Mogrovejo

Shocked at the prospect, Judge Toribio accepted holy orders...

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St. Toribio of Mogrovejo

Born in Mayorga de Campos near Valladolid of a noble Spanish family, and named for the fifth-century saint, Turibius of Astorga, Toribio did not intend to be a priest though his family was notably religious. For his professional career he chose the law in the practice of which he shone. As professor of law at the University of Salamanca, he attracted the attention of King Phillip II who appointed him General Inquisitor.

As the seat for the Archbishopric of Lima in Peru, became vacant, the king turned to Judge Toribio de Mogrovejo as the only man with enough strength of character to rein in the scandals in the colony. Shocked at the prospect, he prayed, and in writing to the king pleaded his own incapacity and other canonical impediments, among them the canon forbidding laymen from being promoted to such dignities. Finally, compelled by obedience, Toribio accepted the charge. After a suitable time of preparation, he was ordained to the priesthood, consecrated bishop, and immediately nominated for the Archdiocese of Lima. He was forty-three years of age.

Arriving in the Peruvian capital in 1581, he soon took in the arduous nature of the task thrust upon him by Divine Providence. The attitude of the Spanish conquerors toward the natives was abusive, and the clergy were often the most notorious offenders.

His first initiative was to restore ecclesiastical discipline, proving himself inflexible in regard to clerical scandals. Without respect to persons or rank, Toribio reproved vice and injustice and championed the cause of the natives. He succeeded in eradicating some of the worst abuses, and founded many churches, convents and hospitals as well as the first seminary in the New World.

Learning the local dialects, he traveled throughout his enormous diocese (170,000 sq. miles), often on foot and alone, traversing the difficult Andes, facing all sorts of obstacles from nature and men. He baptized and confirmed half a million souls including St. Rose of Lima, St. Martin de Porres and St. John Massias.

From 1590 onwards he had the great help of another zealous missionary, St. Francis Solano.

Years before he died, he had predicted his own death. In Pacasmayo he contracted fever but labored to the very end. Dragging himself to the sanctuary in Sana, he received Holy Viaticum and died soon after on March 23, as those around him sang the psalm, “I rejoiced at the things that were said to me: We shall go into the house of the Lord".

Weekly Story

WEEKLY STORY

A Bargain with Our Lady

From his sick bed, Ansaldo implored the Mother of God to hea...

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A Bargain with Our Lady


In the city of Doul, in France, lived a young cavalier named Ansaldo. This gentleman was trained in the arts of horsemanship and battle. As was common for those in Ansaldo’s line of work, he received a battle wound from an arrow, which entered so deep into the jaw-bone, that it was not possible to extract the iron.

After four years of suffering in this way, the afflicted man could endure the pain no longer. His affliction had made him very ill, a shadow of his former robust self. He thought he would again try to have the iron extracted. But before doing so, this time he decided to make a bargain with the Blessed Virgin.

From his sick bed, Ansaldo implored the Mother of God to heal his jaw and restore his health to him. In exchange for this great grace, he vowed to visit a sacred image of her in the city of Doul every year, and make an offering of a certain sum of money upon her altar if she granted this request.

He had no sooner made the vow than the iron, without being touched, fell out of his jaw and into his mouth.

The next day, ill as he was, he went to visit the sacred image. With a great deal of effort, the weakened, but hopeful man placed the promised gift upon the altar.

Immediately, he felt himself entirely restored to health.

Amazed by the quick maternal response of Mary Most Holy, Andsaldo never forgot his vow and returned every year to honor his part of their bargain.

From the Glories of Mary, by St. Alphonsus Maria de Liguori.

From his sick bed, Ansaldo implored the Mother of God to heal him and restore his health to him. In exchange for this great grace,

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