Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

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Chicken SoupAngel in Uniform

By

Jeannie Ecke Sowell

There is a family story my father told me about his mother, my grandmother.

In 1949, my father had just returned home from the war. On every American

highway you could see soldiers in uniform hitchhiking home to their

families, as was the custom at that time in America.

Sadly, the thrill of his reunion with his family was soon overshadowed. My

grandmother became very ill and had to be hospitalized. It was her kidneys,

and the doctors told my father that she needed a blood transfusion

immediately or she would not live through the night. The problem was that

Grandmother's blood type was AB-, a very rare type even today, but even

harder to get then because there were no blood banks or air flights to ship

blood. All the family members were typed, but not one member was a match.

So the doctors gave the family no hope; my grandmother was dying.

My father left the hospital in tears to gather up all the family members, so

that everyone would get a chance to tell Grandmother good-bye. As my father

was driving down the highway, he passed a soldier in uniform hitchhiking

home to his family. Deep in grief, my father had no inclination at that

moment to do a good deed. Yet it was almost as if something outside himself

pulled him to a stop, and he waited as the stranger climber into the car.

My father was too upset to even ask the soldier his name, but the soldier

noticed my father's tears right away and inquired about them. Through his

tears, my father told this total stranger that his mother was lying in a

hospital dying because the doctors had been unable to locate her blood type,

AB-, and if they did not locate her blood type before nightfall, she would

surely die.

It got very quiet in the car. Then this unidentified soldier extended his

hand out to my father, palm up. Resting in the palm of his hand were the

dog tags from around his neck. The blood type on the tags was AB-. The

soldier told my father to turn the car around and get him to the hospital.

My grandmother lived until 1996, 47 years later, and to this day no one in

our family knows the soldier's name. But my father has often wondered, was

he a soldier or an angel in uniform?