Digital Marian Helper Magazine Spring 2021

M arian H elper • S pring 2021 • marian . org 27 On the day of the tragic event, a resupply unit had been ambushed by the enemy seven miles away from Matt’s outpost. “They called for air support. You have to be certified to direct pilots where to drop their bombs, and I was the only one in the area certified. So, I wasn’t there on site. I was in our command center seven miles away.” He called in two F-18 combat aircraft and could watch what was going on through a computer monitor. “[There was] this building on the edge of a small village made of mud huts. They said that this was where the fire was coming from. I was able to dial in on where it was, talk the pilots onto it, and I gave them the ‘cleared hot,’ which is the command saying that you can drop a bomb on them.” Moments later, in the command center seven miles away, the room shook and the computer screen flashed. Matt’s fellow officers started high-fiving in celebration. “There was a moment where I had really seen this as an opportunity to prove my worth, to prove that I was a warrior,” Matt recalled. “And in that moment, there was this real recogni- tion that I had taken a human life. And there was almost a shame in how impersonal it was. It was almost like a video game for me, watching on a screen, pressing a button. … In that moment, I didn’t feel like celebrating.” Soon, calls started coming in from local contacts. “They all kept saying the same thing — that there was nothing but innocent people in that building I had just leveled.” ‘Interiorly, I was dead’ As Matt hoped against hope that they were receiving bad intelligence, a platoon commander went to assess the damage on the ground. “The reports start coming in of these people sifting through the rubble, these local Afghans pulling bodies out,” Matt said. “At first it was a woman and then a teen- age boy. The bodies kept getting smaller. I remember my platoon commander looking at me and saying, ‘Sir, are you sure you want to be in here?’ … Despite what was going on interiorly, I said, ‘Yeah. I got this.’ “Then the radio crackled and the operator said that they had just pulled a baby from the rubble,” Matt continued. “I felt as if my soul had left my body. That’s a common phenomenon reported by people in combat, that when something terrible happens, they feel as if their soul leaves their body. I felt that. I know that didn’t actually happen, but I know what they mean when they say it. I felt inhu- man, and all I could do in that moment, in the midst of my pain, was get up, walk out the door, and hide.” Matt paced outside the command center, puffing on a cigarette he had bummed off another Marine. He didn’t typically smoke. “I wanted to feel something, but I wanted to numb myself too,” he said. As he paced, in his heart he heard a voice, “Matt, you know what you’ve done,” the voice said. “You’ve commit- ted an unforgivable sin. You’ve killed a baby, and they don’t let people like you into Heaven. You are damned where you stand.” Though Matt recognized the voice was interior, outwardly he nodded in agreement to what had been said. “It was the epitome of despair,” Matt said. “I wished death on myself. Inte- riorly, I was dead.” He walked to his tent, sat on the edge of his cot, and vomited. “I curled up into a ball onmy cot, prayed one Hail Mary, and fell asleep. When I woke up during the night, I felt terrible. I just thought to myself, ‘I’m going to be one of those people now. This is my story. I’m going to wake up to this nightmare for the rest of my life, and I’ll never be able to escape this.’” ‘Matt, fear not’ In the wake of this tragedy, God’s mercy first began to comfort Matt through the empathy of his fellowMarines. A few shared stories with him about how they had unin- tentionally taken innocent lives, casualties of war. Further- more, Matt’s air officer told him that he had been listen- ing to the call over the radio. “I saw everything you saw,” he said. “Had you not given weapons release authority, I would have jumped in and given it for you, and I would have doubted your ability to do your job.” Those little experiences of mercy pointed Matt down a path toward healing. “The most profound moment, though, was when my JAG officer was coming out to do an investigation. He said, ‘Matt, fear not. I’m bringing you the Eucharist.’ Until then, none of us had had the opportunity to receive Holy Communion. When Jesus showed up on that outpost, it changed everything.” Though he was still shy in his Catholic faith, Matt notified several other Marines that the Eucharist would be available soon. The interest of others inspired Matt to initi- ate a Lord’s Day every Sunday at the outpost. “[My JAG officer] said, ‘Matt, fear not. I’m bringing you the Eucharist.’ Until then, none of us had had the opportunity to receive Holy Communion. When Jesus showed up on that outpost, it changed everything.” — Matt Ingold