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TwitThisBaptized in Babylon
As he rubbed his prayer stone, Seelaus began to dream that he might be baptized in the Tigris River. "I was possibly about to die in these holy lands," he explains, "and it became very important to me to get that blessing." He couldn't, however, see how to bring it about. He briefly considered sneaking out of camp and baptizing himself but feared getting shot or court-martialed or both on his way to the Tigris.Then, one steaming August night between mortar attacks, the chaplain asked for a volunteer to drive him to the helicopter pad the following weekend. He was traveling to Babylon. Seelaus's hand shot up.
When, on Saturday, it turned out that there was room for him on one of the Black Hawk helicopters making the trip, he was elated. They flew low enough across Iraq to scatter herds of cattle and sheep roaming the countryside. "Then the palaces of Babylon appeared," says Seelaus. "King Nebuchadnezzar's ancient palace and Saddam Hussein's former palace overlooking the city." On arrival, he learned that the head chaplain leading the expedition was planning to baptize another soldier in the Euphrates later that day. He asked to be included.
From the palace, the group headed through the hectic open market and down a dusty dirt road to the Euphrates. Seelaus emptied his pockets, took off his shirt, and waited. They had been warned that the ancient waters were unclean, but Seelaus was relieved to see baby fish swimming in the murky water. There was life there. When the chaplain beckoned to him, he walked confidently into the Euphrates and was baptized in Babylon. Iraq was never the same for Seelaus after that August day. "I became more patient, even a little more trustful," he says. "A lot of my fear just seemed to evaporate. The danger was the same, but I was different."
It was some months later that Seelaus found himself in another classroom. The unit communications officer was a professor at Pepperdine University. A student there had collected school bags and much-needed supplies to distribute to Iraqi schools. Seelaus volunteered to go.
Even on a goodwill mission, no advance announcement was made for fear of traps. "We were locked and loaded in full battle rattle," he says. "We were taking school supplies but watching every minute for improvised explosive devices." On arrival, the soldiers immediately jumped off the Humvees to take point around the perimeter. "The man serving us tea could have been firing rockets at night," he says. "That had not changed."
He was shocked by the schools. "There were dirt floors and broken windows and no electricity. Just rows of desks crowding the room, and bare walls." But the children were the same as the second-graders he'd left behind in Philadelphia. "One little boy looked me up and down and gave me the thumbs-up sign. These kids could have been my own students," he says, "yet here I was in full battle gear." Despite the trust-no-one edict, Seelaus saw what he needed to do. "Every impulse told me to take my helmet off -- and finally I did. I put my weapon aside and handed it to someone else. I can't love children with a weapon in my hand."
Seelaus finally returned home last spring after being deployed for 425 days. This fall, he is back teaching second grade in Philadelphia. Instead of 27 hours on tower guard duty, he's reading Arthur's Back to School Day. "It's wonderful," he says, "wonderful that I made it back." The prayer stone? He carries it every day in his pocket.
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