A Soldier’s Encounter with Michael the Archangel

There’s a shroud of darkness over America.

Here’s a reminder of light . . . .

In the Korean War (1950-53), a U.S. Marine named Michael had an encounter with his namesake and patron saint, to whom he had prayed every day
since his youth for protection. Below is a revised (for literary effect) version of soldier Michael’s letter to his mother, which was verified by the Marine Chaplain. (Source: Opus Sanctorum Angelorum: Angel Stories)

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My company and I went out on patrol on a foggy wintry day.

A new soldier had joined our group and was marching alongside me.

I turned to him and said, “I have never seen you before. I thought I knew every man in the outfit.”

The new soldier replied, “I just joined at the last minute. My name is Michael.”

“Is that so?” I said, surprised. “That’s my name, too!”

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

Those are the beginning words of my daily prayer to St. Michael, my patron saint as well as the patron saint of soldiers and police officers. How could this new soldier know my name, much less recite this same prayer? Still, I thought to myself, I had taught the prayer to the other soldiers. Perhaps, this was how the soldier knows it.

We walked in silence for a time. Suddenly, the new soldier Michael warned: “We are going to have some trouble up ahead.”

In the fog, Michael and I got separated from our company. Then, it began to snow. Later the fog lifted, the snow stopped and the sun came out. We walked over a little hill, and there were seven North Korean soldiers waiting for us with raised rifles 30-40 yards away.

I shouted, “Get down!” and threw myself on the ground just as the enemy soldiers began firing. But Michael just stood there, although he should have been killed instantly.

I got up to push Michael to the ground, but received a bullet to the chest.

I felt Michael’s strong arms around me. As he was laying me on the ground, I looked up and saw, not the new soldier, but St. Michael standing there in a blaze of glory, his face shining like the sun. He had a sword in his hand that flashed with a million lights!

That was the last thing I saw before I passed out.

When I awoke, I was surrounded by my company, who were attending to my wound.

I asked them, “Where is Michael?”

But nobody had seen this new soldier, Michael. Moreover, my sergeant said he had seen me walking alone. They wanted to know how I’d done it — how I had managed to kill all seven of the enemy troops without firing a shot.

You see, the seven North Korean troops had all been dispatched with the stroke of a sword.