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The War Cry | NOVEMBER 2015
M
y grandfather and namesake, David H. Jeffrey, was a
doughboy in World War I. He immigrated to America from
Scotland in 1906 at age 10. At 21, he enlisted in the U.S. Army and
served in France. Grandpa never talked about his time in the
"war to end all wars." Perhaps the memories were too painful.
As a Salvationist story of the war goes: two American
doughboys were talking. One asked, "Where do wars come
from anyway?"
The other replied, "Well, one country gets mad at another country, and they
start fi ghting."
"Do you mean that one piece of land gets mad at another piece of land?"
"No, the people of one country get mad at the people of the other."
The fi rst soldier picked up his rifl e and started walking away. When asked where
he was going, he responded, "I'm going home. I'm not mad at anybody."
I wish we could all just walk away from war. Our nation has been involved in so
many terrible confl icts. So many of our young men and women have died, or
returned home broken. Across this land, Christians whose loved ones have served
in war have prayed intensely to God to let them come home safely. God is just as
concerned for these young men and women as we are, and His heart goes out to
all who suffer.
Do you want to know how much God's heart breaks at the sight of human
suffering? Go to Calvary. See His body broken; see His blood shed. God hates
war because He loves every man and woman on the battlefi eld. God loves every
civilian caught in the crossfi re. God has given us a better way--the way of the
cross, the way of sacrifi cial love.
MESSAGE FROM THE NATIONAL COMMANDER
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
W
ILLIAM
B
OOTH
FOUNDER
A
NDR�
C
OX
GENERAL
D
AVID
J
EFFREY
NATIONAL COMMANDER
The Salvation Army Territorial Commanders
P
AUL
R. S
EILER
Central Territorial Commander
B
ARRY
S
WANSON
Eastern Territorial Commander
D
ONALD
B
ELL
Southern Territorial Commander
J
AMES
M. K
NAGGS
Western Territorial Commander
The Salvation Army National Publications Department
Allen Satterlee
Editor�in�Chief
Frank Duracher
Assistant Editor-in-Chief
Jeffrey McDonald
Editorial Director
Roger O. Selvage Jr. Art Director
Gloria A. Hull
Design & Production Editor
Ashley C. Schena
Graphic Designer
Andrea K. Ricker
Graphic Designer
Cynthia A. Edelen
Publications Marketing Manager
Charles Piercey
Electronic Communications Co ordinator
Erin Thibeau
Editorial Assistant
Esther M. Satterlee Circulation Man ager
Elizabeth Duracher Publications Outreach Officer
Melissa Hollinger
Administrative Specialist
Member of the Evangelical Press Association.
Now in its 135th year, the
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O U R M I S S I O N
The Salvation Army, an international
movement, is an evangelical part of
the universal Christian church.
Its message is based on the Bible.
Its ministry is motivated by the love of God.
Its mission is to preach the gospel of
Jesus Christ and to meet human needs
in His name without discrimination.
National Publication of
T H E S A L V A T I O N A R M Y
NOVEMBER 2O15
Volume 135 | Number 13
The War Cry (ISSN 1550�5286) is published 14 times a year at
615 Slaters Lane, P.O. Box 269, Alexandria, VA 22313.
Single copies $1.50. Subscriptions $15 a year USA, $15.50
Canada, $16.50 overseas (U.S. currency). Periodical postage
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�2015 The Salvation Army
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken
from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright �1996,
2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by
permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream,
Illinois 60188, USA. All rights reserved.
U
ncle Bob was nothing more than a name to me since my
earliest days. Killed at the very end of World War II, he was a
fi ghter pilot who made it through the war with Germany,
crashing while in training to go to the Pacifi c. Because he was
buried in the American cemetery outside of Cambridge, England,
I had never seen his grave. I had only heard his name, that he
died and that my older brother was named after him.
Over the years I found out more about him. I heard how as a
small boy he pointed at planes fl ying by and said to his brothers, "Someday I'm
going to be in one of those." He never wavered in his ambitions. When the war
broke out, he rushed to enlist in the Army Air Corps. Flying the most elegant of
propeller airplanes, the P57 Mustang, he joined the millions of Americans who
operated out of Great Britain. He made it through that horrible confl ict, only to
die after the last gun fell silent in Europe.
I visited his grave for the fi rst time this past summer. Like all American cemeteries
for the war dead, it was immaculate. The staff helped me fi nd his grave, and for
the fi rst time I was near Uncle Bob. It is diffi cult to describe my emotions as
"Taps" played. But it was when I touched the cross that marked his grave that I
felt I had fi nally touched him, and I was overwhelmed.
For medical reasons I could not serve in the military, although twice I tried to
enlist. I cannot know what it is to point a gun at another person or to have
weapons pointed at me. I cannot know the terror of bombs going off or the shock
of standing next to someone who is alive one moment and dead the next. But I
can be grateful to those who do know.
Thank you, Uncle Bob. Thank you to all of you who have fought for your country
so that I am free to write these simple words now.
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