By Marcia Barnes
Feature Writer
“Near death, it’s not the bullets whizzing by you, it’s not the row of bullets that grazed your buddy’s arm, it’s not diving over barbwire and being hunted down. Near death is when you think you have breathed your last breath.”
Dwight Moss has spoken and written these words describing his experience as a Marine foot soldier during the Vietnam War. Moss encountered close calls nearly every day while on patrol in Vietnam. Twice, he believed that death was upon him.
“I tried to get in when I was 16,” Moss said. “When that didn’t happen, I worked. I was living in a town near Vancouver, Wash.
“At 19, I was going to be drafted, so I decided to join the Marines and went to Portland to sign up. I finished boot camp at Camp Pendleton in California, then went into infantry training and jungle warfare training.
“We were flown out on a transport plane and we were flying so low you could see the ocean. We landed at a Marine base we were operating in Da Nang. I was 20 years old.
“We could live many lifetimes and never see what the ground foot soldier sees when he’s in a combat zone. You could see it in their eyes. What was happening was war.
“I’ve bagged up many bodies and it gives me empathy for those who have gone before. When you read about the patriots of this country you understand what the flag represents. Often, the general public doesn’t see the gift of those lives. For the foot soldier, it is do or die. He follows commands.
“I remember the rice patty in front us, my squad covered the right flank. There was a hedge in the rice patty, one man had already been taken out, injured and loaded on a helicopter.
“There is a chain of command, you do what you are told. An order came from the field commander to take the men across. One man short, I said, ‘I’ll go first.’
“I told Tony, ‘I’ll go first, you follow me, stay fifteen yards apart, then Jerry.’ They were young. I headed across, you’re running in water with a pack and a rifle. You’re loaded down. I hit the ground. Tony came across and hit the ground.
“Here comes Jerry. He hesitated, paused one moment. He was shot in the chest. If he’d hit the ground immediately, a lot of stuff happened.”
Moss had met near death on an earlier day in Vietnam when he was scouting to find a safe place for the troop to ford a river. Moss grew up in the country, he was familiar with fords.
“I was going up and down the river, searching for a place where we could cross. I began to wade in at a place in the river which looked promising. There were no ripples as I entered deeper into the water but the movement and power of the river was greater. Suddenly, with one step there was no bottom. I tried to take a step back, but the current moved me. The water was over my head.
“I managed to come up for a quick gulp of air, but the weight I was packing quickly pulled me under. I broke through for another quick breath. Then, I went down and realized I would never break the surface of the water again.”
Moss said he knew death was at his door and he couldn’t stop it. He felt as though he was fading away. He felt a faint pressure of someone taking hold of him, but he couldn’t embrace the touch or fight it.
“Someone,” Moss said, “maybe my angel, had locked arms with other men and they began to pull me away from death and a river that was to me a river with no bottom.
“I never again saw the man or the angel. I did see him once that day walking in the open along the river bank. I thought to myself, ‘He is a prime target for snipers.’ I do not recall seeing him again.
Orders came down for Moss to move to another location shortly after the day in the rice patties, after the patrol in which the Marine named Jerry died. Tony was no longer in his squad, but in the same platoon.
“I went out with the platoon. The Lieutenant was with us and this was new territory. The Lieutenant asked me if I knew where we were. When I lead a squad out, I do use a map to keep our location pinpointed.
“As we began our patrol and sweep of the area, we began to encounter land mines. They were everywhere.
“The Lieutenant asked me to check out a bamboo hut covered in straw except for doors and windows. My mindset was sniper. I continued to move forward with two men following me at a distance. My eyes were on every window, every door of the hut.
“What happened? I was still standing. I didn’t hear anything. There was a large cut in my chest.
“The only thing I said to myself was, ‘I’ve got to stay calm.’ The other men were not so calm. Some of the shrapnel had hit them, but not seriously. I was torn open. Soon everything became totally dark. I had no prayers when I thought I was dying. I had no God.
“I’ve done jail ministry and had others ask me, ‘What if you’d died?’ I told them, ‘You can’t conjure up faith.’ God knew my heart, he knew I loved the families in Vietnam, the farmers. They were human beings.”
The wounds Moss sustained on that day were immeasurable in the field. The military sent two officers to his mom’s house in Shooting Creek. The family thought they’d lost their son.
“I wasn’t able to be shipped out right away, but my first phone call was to my mother.
“I know what it feels like when you know you are dying. I know a warrior will fight until the last breath. The hard part of life is not the dying, but to live the best you can to the last second and not allow fear to be your master. Allow the eternal man Jesus to show you the way of truth, light and life.”