No Greater Love

I found this while sorting through my papers... I was read this on 'The Journey' ( A tramp, cycle and kayak from the Mount back to Auckland)

It made me cry and apriciate my family and friends then, and continues to do so now.

NO GREATER LOVE


Nobody knows what the planned target was, but on a certain grey day it was the home of small frightened children that these bombs hit. An orphanage run by a missionary group in the small Vietnamese vilage. The missionaries and one or two children were killed outright, and several more were wounded, including one young girl, about eight years old.

People from the village requested medical help from a neighbouring town that had radio contact with the American forces. Finally, an American navy doctor and nurse arrived in a jeep with only their medical kits. They established that the girl was the most critically injured. Without quick action, she would die of shock and loss of blood.

A transfusion was vital, and a donor with a matching blood type was required. A quick test showed that neither American had the correct type, but several of the uninjured orphans did. The doctor spoke some pidgin Vietamese, and the nurse a smattering of high-school French. Using that combination along with impromptu sign language, they tried to explain to their young, frightened audience that unless they could replace some of the girls lost blood, she woulod certainally die. Then they asked if anyone would be willing to give blood to help.

Their request was met with wide-eyed silence. After several long moments, a small hand slowly and waveringly went up, dropped back down and then went back up again. "Oh, thank you," the nurse said in French. "What is your name?" "Heng" came the reply.

Heng was quickly laid on a pallet, his arm swabbed with alcohol, and a needle inserted in his vein. Through this ordeal, Heng lay stiff and silent. After a moment, he let out a shuddering sob, quickly covering his face with his free hand. "is it hurting Heng?" the doctor asked. Heng shook his head, but after a few moments another sob escaped, and once more he tried to cover up his crying. Again the doctor asked him if the needle hurt, and again Heng shook his head. But now his occasional sobs gave way to a steady, silent crying, his eyes screwed tightly shut, his fist in his mouth to stifle his sobs.

The medical team was concerned. Something was obviously wrong. At this point a Veitnamese nurse arrived to help. Seeing the little ones distress, she spoke to him rappidly in Vietnamese, listened to his reply and answered him in a soothing voice. After a moment, the patient stopped crying and look questioningly at the Veitnamese nurse. When she nodded a look of great relief spread over his face. Glancing up, the nurse said quietly to the Americans, "He thought he was dying. He misunderstood you. He thought you had asked him to give all his blood so the little girl could live." "But why would he be willing to do that?" asked the navy nurse.
The Vietnamese nurse repeated the question to the little boy,

who simply answered, "She's my friend"

Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for a friend.

Just as I'd do for all of you,

Love Tones