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Weekly Chasidic Story #709 (s5771-43 / 25 Sivan 5771) Captured by a Nine-Foot Cobra ...a divine revelation in the jungles of South Vietnam, February 1969. Connection: Weekly reading -- Num. 21:9
Captured by a Nine-Foot CobraBy Lazer Brody
An annoying mosquito buzzed in Sammy's ear, and a leech bit his wrist. He didn't dare slap himself, for the slightest noise could reveal his position to an enemy ambush. The mission therefore called for radio silence, which necessitated the three platoons of Company C to maintain eye contact with each other. A heavy dawn mist descended on the jungle. The fog was so thick that Sammy barely saw Captain John Willis, his company commander, from a distance of three feet. Willis scribbled a note and passed it to Sammy: "Platoon B, 0800, green east". Sammy looked at his watch and nodded in understanding. His orders were to crawl over to Platoon B, one hundred yards to the right, and to inform the platoon leader that at exactly eight a.m., all three platoons would leave their present position and approach the Laotian border due east of them. Sammy slithered inch by inch in the mud. His life depended on
his absolute silence. He looked at The "mine", none other than a turtle, stuck its head out and laughed in Sammy's face, and then crawled away nonchalantly. He exhaled deeply in relief, and continued in the direction of Platoon B. Forty-five minutes expired; Sammy wiped the mud off the face of
his watch, and read the time - ten minutes to eight. The fog lifted, but a heavy
rain drenched the already saturated jungle. "Chikachikachik! Chikachikachik!" The cobra's forked
tongue almost touched Sammy's nose. The snake snarled, exposing his two deadly
fangs, and braced to an attack position. Sammy's M-16 rifle lay in a futile silence beside him. His commando knife remained idle in its scabbard, as did the three assault grenades in his ammo belt. He didn't dare move a muscle. Beads of salty sweat from his forehead traversed his right eyebrow and then dripped down and stung his right eye. Wiping his forehead was out of the question. Jungle survival school taught him that only a bronze statue lives through an encounter with an irate cobra. I'm a bronze statue, Sammy thought to himself; I'm a bronze statue. Chikachikachik! Chikachikachik!" The cobra continued with
his head cocked in a foreboding assault position. The snake seemed to lock itself
- only his tongue darted periodically to and fro. Every muscle in Sammy's body cried out in pain. His neck was as stiff as granite, his fatigues were soaked, and the unbearable winter dampness seemed to chill the fibers of his soul. Another two hours passed. Each minute was a trial of a lifetime. Sammy kept thinking to himself, "One more minute, one more minute. I'm still alive. Hold on, Adler, one more minute! You can stick it out for another minute. Thank you, G-d, for letting me live another minute." G-d? When did He come on the scene? Sammy surprised himself. He never prayed in his life. His parents never practiced any form of religion, even though his grandparents were religious Jews. Sammy Adler was raised American - baseball, apple pie, The Marine Corp, and nothing else. The snake seemed to alter its facial expression from threat to understanding. The minute Sammy thought about G-d, he could have sworn that the snake nodded its head, as if to say, "You're correct, soldier!" At that very instant, the snake uncocked its head, performed a perfect West Point "at ease" and "about face", and slithered away to the thick of the jungle. Sammy's head dropped like a two-ton anchor. He broke out in a cathartic sob, and his entire body shuddered for a good five minutes, releasing the pent-up tension from within. He looked at his watch - seventeen hundred hours, or five in the afternoon. Who could ever believe it? A U.S. Marine had just been held captive for nine hours in the custody of a nine-foot cobra. Were it not for his aching muscles and the leech bites all over his body, he wouldn't have believed it himself. After several minutes of massaging his legs, he was able to stand. He didn't have much time, for nightfall was less than an hour away. The last nine hours felt like nine years. Sammy, a superb navigator, began walking in the direction of the company bivouac - exhausted mentally and physically, but alive. He arrived at the clearing by the river, in the proximity of his platoon's ambush position, and received the shock of his life: Captain John Willis and the Marines of Company C's three platoons were slaughtered to the last man in a counter-ambush. The realization of the miracle hit Sergeant Sammy Adler like a
ton of bricks: The Al-mighty had sent a gigantic cobra to guard over him. Were
it not for the cobra, he would have returned to his company's position and would
have been slaughtered too. Nine hours of unimaginable stress and suffering,
with a deadly cobra staring him in the face, turned out to be the blessing of
his life, a divine revelation in the jungles of South Vietnam, February 1969.
Connection: Weekly Reading -- Num. 21:9 Rabbi Lazer Brody [//lazerbrody.typepad.com], affectionately
known as Rabbi Rambo from his past as a commando in Israel's Special Forces,
is an author, broadcaster and emotional counselor, and currently the director
of the English section of //breslev.co.il. His published works in English include
"The Trail to Tranquility" and "The Garden of Emuna."
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his watch again - five minutes after seven. He took a deep breath and continued,
first an elbow, then a knee, another elbow, then another knee. He stopped dead
in his tracks: A roundish brown object, the exact size and shape of antipersonnel
mine, was right before his nose.
Yerachmiel
Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor
of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories
to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells
them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.