Merlin Carothers - Prison To Praise
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- Book:Prison To Praise
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- Publisher:Merlin Carothers
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- Year:1970
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Merlin Carothers: author's other books
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Merlin Carothers
Merlin Carothers
J. Blair
Thomas Carothers
Jean Markale
Geoffrey Ashe
Carothers
Graham Hoyland
Merlin Carothers
Merlin R. Carothers
Mike Ashley
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PRISON TO PRAISE
Copyright 1970 by Merlin R. Carothers
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
Merlin R. Carothers, Escondido, California
www.MerlinCarothers.com
First Printing July, 1970
Ninety-seventh Printing July, 2010
International Standard Book No.
ISBN: 978-0943026-43-5 (ePub)
Also printed in fifty-eight languages
Merlin R. Carothers is well-known throughout the Christian community. His books have sold over 19 million copies. His unique concept of praise in all things brings results that can only be termed miraculous.
Merlin R. Carothers may be the only author to have served as a paratrooper in World War II, as a guard for General Dwight D. Eisenhower, and later as a Lt. Colonel in the U.S. Army Chaplaincy in Korea, the Dominican Republic conflict, and in Vietnam.
During these conflicts Merlin Carothers learned amazing things that changed his life. Many people who have read this book have come to enjoy a happiness they never expected to experience. Christians have been overwhelmed to learn that they can live in peace as they discover the secrets of a life of praise.
Read this book and you will understand how to be victorious over the circumstances of your life!
Be joyful always;
pray continually;
give thanks in all
circumstances for
this is Gods will
for you!
I Thessalonians 5:16-18
CONTENTS
Chapters
Prisoner
There was the touch of cold metal against my left wrist and the harsh voice in my ear: This is the FBI. You are under arrest.
Id been relaxing in the back seat of the car with my left arm hanging out the window. The car was stolen and I was AWOL from the Army.
Being AWOL didnt bother me. It was the getting caught that hurt my pride. Id always considered myself capable of doing my own thing and getting away with it. Now I had to suffer the humiliation of the jail cell, stand in line for lousy cold chow, go back to the lonely cell and the hard bunk with nothing to do but stare at the wall. How could I have been stupid enough to get into a mess like this?
Id been a pretty independent fellow from the time I was twelve. Thats when my father died suddenly, leaving my mother alone with three boys to raise. My brothers were seven and one, and Mother started taking in washings and went on relief to keep us alive. She always talked about Dad being in heaven and how God would take care of us, but with the intensity of a twelve-year-old I turned in fury against a God who could treat us that way.
I delivered papers after school until long after dark each night, determined to make my way in life. I was going to make the most of it. Somehow I felt I had it coming. I had a right to grab for all I could get.
When Mother remarried, I went to live with some of Dads old friends. I went to high school, but never quit working. After school and all summer I worked. As a food packer, shipping clerk, linotype operator, and one summer as a lumberjack in Pennsylvania.
I started college, but ran out of money and had to go to work. This time I got a job with B&W Steel as a steel chipper and grinder. Not a very pleasant job, but it kept me in top physical condition. Part of staying ahead in the rat race of the world was being in top shape physically, and I didnt intend to lose out on any count.
I never did want to join the Army. I wanted to go off to sea with the Merchant Marine. I couldnt think of a more glamorous way to get into action in World War II.
To join the Merchant Marine I had to get reclassified 1-A with the draft board that had given me a deferment to go to college. Before I could make it back to the Merchant Marine, the Army inducted me. They told me I could volunteer for the Navy, which I did, but a freak incident kept me out. I failed the eye test simply because Id been reading the wrong line on the chart by mistake! So there, against all my efforts, I landed in basic training at Ft. McClellan, Alabama.
I was bored to death. The training was a breeze, and looking for excitement, I volunteered for airborne training at Fort Benning, Georgia.
A rebel at heart, my biggest problem always was in getting along with my superiors. Somehow they picked on me in spite of all my efforts to remain in the background. Once, during physical training in a sawdust pit, I spat on the ground without thinking. The Sergeant saw me, and descended like a storm cloud. Pick that up in your mouth and carry it out of the area! he screamed.
Youve got to be kidding, I thought, but his red, glowering face indicated he was not. So, humiliated and seething with resentment carefully hidden, I picked up the spit - and a mouthful of sawdust - and carried it out of the area.
The compensation came when we got our first chance to jump from an airplane in flight. This was living! The kind of excitement I was hungering for. Over the roar of the plane engines came the shouted command: Get ready...stand up...hook up...stand in the door...GO!
The blast of air makes you feel like a leaf in a gale - and then, as the rope attached to your parachute reaches its end, a bone-jarring jolt. You feel like youve been hit by a ten-ton truck.
Then, as your brain clears, youre in a beautiful silent world; billowing above is the parachute - a giant white arc of silk.
I was a paratrooper, and earned the honor of wearing the glistening jump boots.
Still, I wanted more excitement and volunteered for advanced training as a Demolition Expert. I wanted in on the war effort, and the hotter the action the better, I thought.
After demolition school I returned to Fort Benning to wait for orders to go overseas. I pulled guard at the stockade, had KP, and waited some more. Patience was not my strong point. At the rate the Army was moving, I figured I might miss out on the fun altogether, scrubbing pots and pans till the war ended.
I wasnt going to sit around doing nothing, and with a friend, I decided to go over the hill.
We simply walked out of the camp one day, stole a car, and headed for anyplace. Just in case someone was looking for us, we dropped the first car and stole another and finally ended up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. There we ran out of spending money and decided to pull a stickup.
I had the gun and my friend waited in the car. Wed picked a store that looked like an easy job. My plan was to pull the telephone wiring so they couldnt call the police. Inside the store, I yanked on the telephone wire as hard as I could, but it wouldnt budge. I was frustrated. The gun was in my pocket, the cash register was full of money, but the line to the police was still there. I wasnt about to invite disaster.
So I went back to the car to tell my buddy, and we were just sitting there in the back seat, eating green apples and talking, when the long arm of the law finally caught up with us. We didnt know it, but a six-state alarm had gone out for us, and the FBI was hot on our heels.
Our search for adventure had ended in a pretty sad flop. I was back in the stockade at Fort Benning where Id been a guard only a few months earlier. I was sentenced to six months confinement and immediately started a campaign to get overseas. My fellow prisoners laughed and said, You wouldnt have gone AWOL if you wanted to go overseas.
I kept insisting Id gone AWOL because I got bored waiting to be sent overseas.
At last my pleas were heard. I was placed on overseas shipment and went under guard to Camp Kilmer, N.J., where I was placed in the stockade to wait for our ship to Europe.
At last, I was on my way. Almost, anyway. The night before our ship was due to sail I was called to the Commanders office where I learned that I wouldnt be sailing with the rest of the men.
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