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Wayne Bryant

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Hobo Ted's Last Train Home
by Wayne Bryant   

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Books by Wayne Bryant
· Megan's Voyage
· Teenagers Eulogy
· Too Late To Pray
                >> View all



Publisher:  self ISBN-10:  1456320106 Type: 


Copyright:  December 20, 2010 ISBN-13:  9781456320102

Chuck Wilson was left for dead as he lay unconscious in a jungle that was infested with poisonous snakes and wild animals. He suffered a gunshot wound to his head when the enemy proved to be a lot more than the mercenaries he was secretly there to advise could handle. It took Divine help, but he survived. When he finally reached an Army outpost, it was a far cry from the heroes welcome he imagined in his mind . Because of trumped up charges, his presence alone could start an armed conflict between North Vietnam and the United States. He learns of a plot by the CIA to kill him. Hiding in broad-open daylight becomes a way of life for him. Beyond the call of duty means nothing now.

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Some Angels Wear Red White And Blue

If It Weren’t For Angels?


In the King James Version of the Holy Bible we are warned

about angels here on earth in Hebrews 13: 2. “Be not

forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have

entertained angels unawares”.

That is enough for you to think about right now. Sit back now, relax and enjoy your ride on Hobo Ted’s Last Train Home.

Rarely an author writes a book the whole family can share and really enjoy. As controversial as the subject may be about the existence of angels on earth, it gives everyone a chance to voice his or her own opinion. It is also a story that allows you to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes before you pass judgment on them. Hobo Ted’s Last Train Home is that kind of book.

Chuck Wilson left for dead, lay unconscious in a jungle infested with poisonous snakes and wild animals. Suffering from a gunshot wound to his head, he was all alone. He knew he was somewhere in Vietnam, but little else. Everyone thought he was dead. The enemy proved to be a lot more than the mercenaries he was secretly there to advise could handle.

It took five years before he recovered. When he finally reached an Army outpost, it was very different from the heroes welcome he had imagined getting. Service records listed him as having died five years earlier in another country.

The Pentagon stood by their official statement, Chuck Wilson was never in Vietnam. To admit he was, could cause tensions between the United States and North Vietnam to flare up again. Just knowing he was still alive could trigger an armed conflict. Chuck believed angels watched over him. He felt there was no way he could have survived all those near death experiences without them. After reading this story, I feel certain you will agree what happened to Chuck, was definitely beyond the call of duty of any American soldier.

How many out there feel the same way about angels as I? To the best of my knowledge, I have never seen one, although I have felt their presence around me many times.

The Bible I study teaches me to be careful, because we entertain angels unaware. Others I talked too were reluctant to call them angels, but said if it were not for an encounter of a third kind, they may not be alive today.

Could a premonition be considered a celestial warning? You know, that strong inner feeling you get about a possible danger if you take that trip, or do not get on that particular airplane, take another flight instead, etc. Later you found out a taxi, on its way to the airport about the same time you would have left, crashed. The passengers all died or were crippled for life. Did you stop and think that might have been you?

Maybe it was just an uneasy feeling you suddenly got about attending a social event. Suddenly, at the last minute you got a funny feeling. It kept running through your mind not to go there. You followed your premonition that evening and stayed home.

The next morning while watching the local news, you saw where some person showed up at the party uninvited and went berserk. He shot several innocent people.

Where do you suppose our inner thoughts come from? Could it be something we just conjure up in our minds? Personally, I do not think so.

If I thought I was just lucky all my life, I would have moved to Las Vegas years ago and made a fortune playing the slot machines.

I told you this was a controversial book. I am just relating events told to me or I saw printed in newspaper articles from eyewitness accounts. Some of these stories I have no way of authenticating, still other events I actually saw or they personally happened to me.

You can ask three different people about the possibilities of angels here on earth, and you will get three different answers. We may all have our own interpretations as to who angels are and what they really look like.

In spite of all the confessed non-believers in this world, I wonder why most of them call on a higher power when faced with a life or death situation.

“God help me,” is the most common phrase used.

Ernie Pyle, a popular war correspondent during World War 11, wrote this during the battle to control Wake Island in 1942, “There are no atheists in foxholes.”

Did Chuck Wilson survive because he was just plain lucky, or was it coincidence? Could it be possible angels were really watching over him after all?


“I’m not really who you’re thinking I am right now. At first glance, you might think I am just another homeless tramp. The truth is I was born around here and once had a nice home and family. I made many friends as I traveled through this life. With Gods’ help, I managed to make the most from what life gave me.
I had just started a business and life was going great. Some of my friends even suggested I run for mayor. I was hoping to spend Christmas with my wife and son, but boy was I fooled.
That first Christmas season I got a draft notice from Uncle Sam. I went to the recruiting office to plead my case why I should not have to serve my country. My request was not valid, but I got a chance to shorten my stay in the service. Because of my vast knowledge of the outdoors, they let me enlist in a special branch of the service. I did not know it at the time, but the branch of service I volunteered for had no chance to survive. Some called our unit elite, but I called us plain stupid. Never take it for granted your country cares about your welfare. I am living proof that is not always the case.
Enlisting this way was the best I could hope for at the time and I accepted the assignment. After a few months of special training in jungle warfare, they sent me to Southeast Asia. No one knew where our final destination would be. Just before our plane landed, my sergeant told us, welcome to Vietnam. That was the last place I wanted to spend Christmas. I took it for granted I would be home with my wife and son in a couple of years. I did not fully realize what I volunteered for until I was on a plane heading for this Southeast Asian land. Off the record, I was on a suicide mission at best. That was a lesson I never forgot. Never volunteer for anything that sounds too good to be true. The only ID we carried was our civilian drivers license and social security cards. They let us keep our money. Our sergeant took our dog tags and anything else that might link us to a US Military service. They gave us civilian clothes and boots; we carried a large hunting knife and a Chinese Army rifle. A truck met us at the plane and dropped us off deep inside a jungle. There were twelve of us. I found out five years later, I was the only survivor.
I soon learned life could be full of surprises. I wanted to write my wife letters and tell her how much I loved her and missed her and my son, but regulations prevented me from doing so. As far as the United States of America was concerned, I never existed, at least not in Vietnam.
We were on a scouting patrol looking for any activity from the Vietcong. Things were so quiet it was almost spooky. I was thinking about my wife and son and wondered how they were spending Christmas. I wished this war would hurry up and end so I could go back home.
All of a sudden all hell broke loose. We found the enemy all right. The Vietcong surrounded us. I saw a couple of my friends fall. I am not sure, if they survived, because everything was happening so fast. There was no way I could reach them. We were under heavy fire and greatly out numbered. We were under heavy fire. I was not sure what to do next.
This young soldier behind me panicked. He jumped up and started running. Without thinking, I jumped up, chased him down, and tackled him to the ground. That must have brought him back to his senses. He started crying as he crawled back off the path and back into the shelter of the thick foliage of the jungle. I knew I better get out of the open area I was in and get out fast. As I was getting up off the ground, I felt a sharp pain in my head. A bullet creased my scull and I fell to the ground unconscious. I would come too every so often and slowly look around. There was no one there. The area was completely deserted. I have never felt as alone as I did lying there that morning. Unable to move my head without feeling excruciating pain, I remained as motionless as I could. This must have gone on for hours.
The enemy proved to be more than the mercenaries I was secretly there to advise could handle. Forced to flee for their lives, they left my body behind. I had no way of knowing it at the time, but I was later being blamed for almost every killing, looting, act of vandalism and even rape that took place in the villages throughout the jungle. The government put a price on my head.
Hired mercenaries were originally there to help the rebels suppress the invasion from the North before it escalated into a full-scale war. Believing I would never survive in a jungle infested with poisonous snakes and wild animals, they decided to use me as a scapegoat. They told the North Vietnamese government they were in the area searching for me. They told them they were after the bounty on me. It took Divine help, but I managed to survive for five years. When I finally reached an Army outpost, I discovered I was a man without a country. The Pentagon denied I was ever a part of any aggressive action by American troops and was never in Vietnam.
My service record listed me as killed in Germany, but for security reasons, the exact location of my death was a secret. If not for guardian angels watching over me, chances are I would never have survived to tell my story. The life I was forced to live, I believe was certainly beyond the call of duty.
Whenever something extraordinary happens to other people that even vaguely relates to the possibility there was Divine intervention, skeptics are quick to call it coincidence. Everything that happened in my life was not just pure luck or coincidence.
Later when I had a chance to think about it, I know there must have been an angel watching over me while I lay in that bloody battlefield. I remember opening my eyes and seeing the blurred image of someone standing over me. At first, I thought it was an enemy soldier getting ready to kill me. I started shaking all over from fright. My vision cleared up long enough for me to see a man in a snow-white gown with long blond hair staring down at me. He held up his hand as if to let me know I would be OK.
I knew the enemy was chasing after these mercenaries. They had to go right past where I lay. If I had shown any signs of life, they would most certainly have killed me. I wonder if coincidences and angels could possibly mean the same thing. That is just something to think about and I am sure it will forever be a debatable subject.
The next thing I remember after laying on that bloody ground, was waking up in a small hut somewhere in a jungle in Vietnam.
Was I a prisoner of war? I really did not know what to think at this point. The only thing I knew for sure was, I was still alive and my head was throbbing with every beat of my heart. I could hear people talking somewhere in the room, but I could not see anyone. I had not been in this country long enough to speak or understand any of the Vietnamese language, so I did not have a clue as to what they were talking about.
Then something terrible happened. Everything in my mind went blank. I realized I did not even know my own name. Who am I? Where did I come from? What am I doing here? I had no answers for any of these questions that kept running through my mind. All I could remember was standing in a jungle path. I knew I was a soldier, but not much else after that. I did not know it at the time, but I was suffering from a sever case of amnesia, triggered by the traumatic wound to my head.
As I lay there expecting the worst, I felt a cool cloth on my face. Someone’s hand was gently washing my face. I looked up and everything was blurred. I blinked my eyes several times and the objects around me started to come into focus. The first thing I was able to see was a crucifix hanging on the wall beside me.
This cannot be the enemy, but I did not know that for sure. Everything was very confusing.
I heard the soft voice of a woman standing beside me. I did not think she was the enemy. She had a wide grin.

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