She is My Friend

She is my friend

Anonymous

    I heard this storywhen I was in Vietnam, and it was told to me as fact. I have no way of knowingfor sure that it is true, but I do know that stranger things have happened inwar.

    Whatever their planned target, the mortarrounds landed in an orphanage run by a missionary group in the small Vietnamesevillage. The missionaries and one or two children were killed outright, andseveral more children were wounded, including one young girl, about eight yearsold.

    People from the village requested medicalhelp from a neighboring town that had radio contact with the American forces. Finally,an American Navy doctor and a nurse arrived in a jeep with only their medicalkits. They established that the girl was the most critically injured. Without quickaction, she would die of shock and loss of blood.

    A transfusion was imperative, and a donorwith a matching blood type was required. A quick test showed that neither Americanhad the correct type, but several of the uninjured orphans did.

    The doctor spoke some pidgin Vietnamese, andthe nurse a smattering of high school French. Using that combination, togetherwith much impromptu sign language, they tried to explain to their young,frightened audience that unless they asked if anyone would be willing to giveblood to help.

    Their request was met with wide-eyedsilence. After several long moments, a small hand slowly and waveringly wentup, dropped back down, and then went up again.

    “Oh, thank you.” the nurse said in French. “Whatis your name?”

    “Zhang.” came the reply.

    Heng was quickly laid on a pallets, his armswab bed with alcohol, and a needle inserted in his vein. Through this ordeal Henglay 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. Hengshook his head, but after a few moments another sob escaped, and once more hetried to cover up his crying. Again the doctor asked him of the needle hurt,and again Heng shook his head.

    But now his occasional sobs gave way to asteady, silent crying, his eyes screwed tightly shut, his fist in his mouth tostifle his sobs.

    The medical team was concerned. Something wasobviously very wrong. At this point, a Vietnamese nurse arrived to help. Seeingthe little one’s distress, she spoke to him rapidly in Vietnamese, listened tohis reply and answered him in a soothing voice.

Aftera moment, the patient stopped crying and looked questioningly at the Vietnamesenurse. 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 togive 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 questionboy, why answered simply, “She’s my friend.”

    Greater love has no man than this——thathe will lay down his life for a friend.

阅之动容，世间生命的宝贵，而你也是。