When in Vietnam we often wondered if there might be a special Warriors Gate for us. Normally when a GI went down they were encrusted in mud or soaked by monsoon rains, perhaps even slimmed stinky green from the canals. Death there was never easy, nice, or clean. The arms of war create horrible havoc upon the human body.
So, we just wondered if there might be some special place they sneak us in before we could clean up. Actually, the number one question was if we could pass the gates. True it was not our war; it belonged to our respective countries. But we did awful things in prosecuting it. We all knew the cruel blood upon our souls. Our Chaplains assured us that our place in the Heavenly Halls was assured..
So we spoke in hushed tones of the Warriors Gate and hoped, when it came time, longed to hear the clear clarion voice upon the crystal air, “Open the gate! There is a Warrior outside and his brothers here wish to welcome him in their arms.