I was entirely focused on getting into the Army. I was especially interested in elite units. I had friends who were in the new Ranger Battalions as well as in Special Forces (Green Berets). I was working out at a gym four times a week and running 3 to 6 miles every afternoon in the oppressive Houston heat.
When my attempt to reenlist was refused by the Secretary of Army, I became very disheartened. Life at Berachah had an over-arching focus on defeating worldwide Communism. Thieme framed Communism as the greatest threat to the spread of the Gospel. With the monthly “military communions,” Medal of Honor citations before each bible study, and the constant parade of military personnel through Berachah, it was hard to think about anything else. Really, there were only two careers that held esteem with our crowd: teaching the Bible and military service. Since Thieme was way ahead of anyone (in our eyes) as a bible teacher, there seemed to be no purpose in pursuing the ministry.
I was really uninterested in the series of sales jobs that came my way. I finally ended up as a life insurance salesman for Northwestern Mutual, but even my very fast start as a rookie agent could not hold my attention. I still wanted a military career. I began to consider going to Israel under the “right of return” to join the Israeli Defense Forces. I had some childhood acquaintances whom had obtained dual citizenship and had served in the IDF. It was kind of a rite of passage for some. My problem was my newfound Christianity. I didn’t think that would be welcome in Israel.
Occasionally, Thieme spoke about Rhodesia. He painted the struggle in the southern African nation as the “new Texas”—fighting against worldwide sanctions to stop a terrorist attempt to impose a Marxist state. He believed Rhodesia was our best non-Soviet source of chromium and lithium. He insisted that the strategic minerals, especially chromium were essential to the American defense industry. I wondered if maybe there was a role that I could play in that struggle that would help the beleaguered Rhodesians and defended American strategic interests?
In the middle of this personal turmoil, as I struggled to find the special plan that God had for my life, I realized that Pegi was the “right woman” for me. Believing that God had brought us together for His purpose, we decided to spend the rest of our lives together—wherever that might lead. Little did we know that it would be such an exciting trip!
On the 20th of May, 1976, together with our two best friends from Berachah, Ken and Jill Duckman, we were married by the Justice of Peace in Bellaire, Texas. Ken had grown up in a Jewish family in New York and had met and married Jill in Madison after they met at concert she catered for his rock band. When I had left the Navy for Madison, Ken was one of the first people I met. He became a believer in Jesus and soon moved to Houston.
The story of our wedding is worth telling as we all four still smile at the memory. It will be no surprise that Col Thieme wasn’t real big on ceremonies, especially religious ceremonies. He was totally focused on teaching Bible Doctrine. He insisted that marriage was not really a religious function, but really a matter of state government. He did occasionally perform weddings, but we really didn’t want all the bother of dealing with our families. Since the Colonel used to recommend just going to a Justice of the Peace, we did just that.
I made an appointment before Judge Heath Till in Bellaire, a small city enclave surrounded by the larger city of Houston. The four of us had to wait in the tiny reception area outside his one-judge office. I think there was room for at least Pegi and Jill to sit. We were delayed when I found out that they wouldn’t take my personal check for $15. This was in the days long before ATMs and I Ken and I didn’t have $15 cash between us! I went across to the street to a grocery store and cashed a check.
We were finally ushered into Judge Till’s office where he was seated behind a small desk, cowboy boots under his black robes. Pegi was wearing my favorite dress that happened to be black with a floral print. Jill was wearing a pastel dress, so the judge thought Jill and I were to be married. We corrected that misconception and stood before his desk with just barely enough room for Ken and Jill behind us as witnesses.
The whole situation was comical. As we stood before the judge reciting our vows, Ken and Jill started to giggle. You know how this works! One person starts giggling and it becomes contagiously irresistible. Our own chuckles betrayed our attempt at solemnity. Judge Till looked up from his documents over his reading glasses that were low on his nose and said,
“I hope you are still laughing ten years from now!”
That was it. We were married. On the occasion of our tenth year of marriage, we happened to be in Houston. We had every intention of dropping in to visit Judge Till, but other happy responsibilities kept us busy—our one and only child, Abigail, who was born ten years and one month after our chuckle-vows in Bellaire. More about that later.
So, I had my “California by way of Texas girl.” But what were we to do about this burning desire to have a military career?
About six months after our wedding, a member of the Berachah Tapes and Publications staff spoke to the congregation on Sunday morning. Roy Hurst had been a sergeant in the Marines in his youth. A few years later he was part of a production team filming wild life in Rhodesia. Now in his forties, he had recently married and taken his bride to Rhodesia for their honeymoon.
That Sunday morning he detailed the noble struggle of white and black Rhodesians against Soviet, Chinese and North Korean trained terrorist armies attacking from surrounding countries. I won’t recount the details for you here. What was most significant to me was that Roy had befriended a number of senior government officials and Rhodesia Army officers.
I had worked for Roy for about a year in the tape department at Berachah. He was well aware of my struggles to enlist in the Army. After his speech, Pegi and I found Roy in the hallway.
I asked, “Roy, do you think there might be a place for me in the Rhodesian Army?”
Without hesitation he handed me a manila envelope saying, “Jeff, I spoke to the chief of Rhodesian recruiting about you. In this envelope you will find a blank application to fill out, recruiting and contact information.”
At midnight Houston time, I placed an international call to Major Nick Lamprecht in Salisbury, Rhodesia where it was just after 8:00 in the morning.
Yes, Roy spoke to me about you. He says that you are just the type of person that we are looking for to be in our Rhodesian Light Infantry commando force. Just fill out the application that he gave you and bring it with you to my office in Salisbury. We will reimburse you and your wife for your plane tickets.
One month later, Pegi and I boarded a South African Airways flight from Houston to Johannesburg, South Africa. We had been married only nine months. As we settled excitedly into our seats, one of the flight attendants asked us if we were newlyweds. We said that we were and our trip to Rhodesia via South Africa would be our honeymoon. After we were airborne, she brought us a bottle of champagne to celebrate.
After an 18 hour flight to Johannesburg and an overnight stay in the Carlton Hotel, we de-planed an Air Rhodesia Boeing 707 on the tarmac in Salisbury. When we exited customs, we were greeted by Regimental Sergeant Major Harry Springer, the senior NCO in the Rhodesian Light Infantry (RLI). He dropped us off at the Jameson Hotel in Salisbury. Our honeymoon had begun—in the middle of a war zone, but the war was very far away from the beautiful afternoon breeze in Salisbury.
Next: Two eggs Boss? You sure?
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