The Ultimate Pursuit

University

DEDICATION

I want to dedicate this book to my mother, Jean M. Smith. She never gave up on me even when times became very difficult. Her love and commitment kept me going. It was and continues to be the kind of love that never quits. She was a shining light when everything seemed to be dark and I had lost my way.

I am also very thankful for the lessons I learned from my father. Even though he and I had some misgivings when I was growing up, my father never stopped praying for me. He tried over and over again to help me even though I struggled. My father, Glen, and I have both grown in the Lord and enjoyed many loving years together.

Thank you Mom and Dad.

I love you very much.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I would like to thank my Lord Jesus Christ who is the reason this book was written. Without Him I would not have a story worth sharing.

I also want to thank my wife Helen, who is not only a large part of the story and helped me type the manuscript, but gave me the encouragement and accountability I needed to live this story you are about to read. Also, thank you to my daughter, Moa Hope, who has filled my heart with love.

A huge thank you to Sonnie Hamner who edited and made me soul search through each and every page of the book. Sonnie and her husband, Gary Hamner, were a huge inspiration to me to even undertake this project.

I am very grateful for Judi Daniels who voluntarily used her professional skills to help make up for the fact that I barely got by English class in high school. Her love for Jesus was reason enough for her hard work.

I am forever indebted to the ministry of Teen Challenge that took me in when I smelled foul, looked scary and all I had was a parole officer and a drug addiction. They only asked me to do one thing—to surrender my life to Jesus and allow Him to love me—and it worked.

To all of my family, especially my mother who knew I was starting to write a book of miracles but went to heaven shortly after I started it. Her steadfast prayers, along with my father, Glen’s prayers were answered, which is also a huge part of this book.

Also to the awesome Julie and Gary Kirk of CSN Books, who were the answers to my prayers for the right publisher.

I cannot leave out Rev. Keith and Candy Jackson who were directors of Teen Challenge Ministry Institute, pastors of the Lynwood Worship Center, and my mentors and good friends. I learned so much from them about trusting God and believing Him for supernatural favor.

To Don and Sondra Tipton, owners and president of Friend Ships ministries, who gave me an opportunity to join with them in reaching out to the nations.

I also want to thank many of our friends who have helped make this book a reality through their support and prayers:

Glen Smith

Jack and Eletta Files

Jack and Retha Files

Ray and Ginny Allen

Lowell and Naomi Crocker

Norm and Betty Riley

Jim and Evie Jingling

Dan and Jeanie O’Dell

Ardith Kleindienst

Daniel Garber

Lynne Thomas

Terry and Susan Quinn

Mark and Teri Hersee

Arvin and Verla Smith

Steve and Sandy Bringhurst

Along with many others who have chosen

to remain anonymous in

America, Sweden and Australia.

FOREWORD

This story is one of miracles and a transformed life. I can remember sitting down with Carl as he told me his life story and it was like watching a movie. He has had so many adventures packed into his one life. As I read the pages of this book, I saw in my mind’s eye the ship he was on, his encounters with the law and the miraculous transformation of his life. You will enjoy reading his gripping life story.

Through my 33 years with Teen Challenge and my six years as a commissioner with the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy, I know and have seen people break away from the horrors of drug addiction and find a new life. Few have a story that is as inspiring as Carl’s.

Carl’s dramatic road to recovery is one of faith and courage. It has been an honor to know him and call him a friend.

Dennis Griffith

Executive Director, Teen Challenge Southern California

Teen Challenge USA Representative to Washington, DC

INTRODUCTION

I know something about the struggles that people encounter. I was an alcoholic, addicted to heroin for ten years, and spent five years locked up in jails and prisons. I have been homeless, hopeless, have Hepatitis C and have had to face cancer. I will take you on a personal journey with me back in time, and cruise our way forward to the present. I will recount what it was like to work as a police officer in a top-secret naval institution on the island of Guam only to become involved in undercover heroin trafficking. I will take you down the roads I traveled where drug addiction led me from high security prisons to being released only to become homeless and aimlessly wandering for months at a time.

This book is for everyone who feels like they have been too far away to ever come back, too depressed to ever be happy or too addicted to ever have their life changed. You may be on the verge of giving up, but God wants you to know that if He can change my life, He can and will change yours! This book is also for the friends and family members of someone who is struggling with substance abuse. Read and learn the thought processes of a hard-core addict…and how I found my way out of my living nightmare. Not one of these horrific experiences was too much for God to handle. He had already made plans for you and me to be more than conquerors in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:37). Only God could change the horrible life I made for myself into sweet mountaintop victories. As I leapt into the abyss of drugs and despair, God was planning to raise me up into a place of influence and honor. He changed my life and I can testify to the miracle of the truth of His Word.

This journey will account for how I went from a happy-go-lucky, typical high school kid to a hope-to-die dope fiend; from a heroin addict in and out of prison to the happily married husband of a wonderful Swedish woman. I then became an ordained minister and chaplain, a teacher, a counselor and then the father of the most beautiful little blue-eyed girl in the whole world.

This life-changing story is told openly and transparently with the hope that you will read and look just a bit closer for the directions from God in your own journey. The times in my life I listened to God were incredibly adventurous and fruitful experiences. On the other hand, when I lived for myself and shunned God, my life reaped a harvest of destruction, loneliness, complete chaos and sorrow.

I pray this book helps you (or someone you know) to find true freedom and experience the most incredible love anyone can have— a deep, unconditional love relationship with your Creator, Jesus Christ.

CHAPTER ONE

GUAM’S HIGHS AND LOWS

It was 1972, the Vietnam War was in full swing, and the protests were in high gear. President Nixon was in the daily news, there was talk of impeaching him for the Watergate scandal, and the universities were continuously in an uproar. It was the age of flower power, free love and the mellow hippies with long hair who smoked grass and took LSD. On the other side of things was the establishment: the military with their crew cuts and the rednecks with their bumper stickers that read, America, Love It or Leave It. I was not really in either one of these groups but I did have somewhat long hair, I liked to surf and had smoked my share of weed. I thought it was normal; everyone else I knew smoked it too including some of my friends’ parents.

One day, I realized I was going to graduate from high school very soon and what was I going to do then? My father addressed me one afternoon on the subject as I was walking out of the house. Casually he asked, Carl, what are your plans after you graduate? I said, I would like to go to college. My father replied, You know your brother is going to college and he has been there for two years; I don’t think I can afford for you to stay here at home and go to college too.

This caught me off-guard, and I was deeply hurt. I felt what I did many times before—that my father favored my older brother over me. This confirmed that my dad was more interested in Calvin’s life than mine. I tried to hide the shock and hurt on my face. All I could say was, O.K., then I will figure out something else. A couple days later I found myself down at the Armed Forces Recruiters office. I walked in and right past the Army, Navy, and Air Force offices to the Marines. I heard that the Marines were the tough guys; I thought I would belong with them. It was lunchtime and the Marine recruiter was out of his office.

The Navy recruiter noticed me when I had walked by and he stepped out into the hallway. He asked, Would you like some information on the Navy since the Marine recruiter is not around? I said, Sure, O.K. He gave me some tests and interviewed me; I told him about my work experience; we talked about my scuba diving and work as a delivery and set-up person to hospitals and homes with medical supplies. He seemed to be interested in the scuba diving license I had, and my wrestling background. (I took the gold medal in junior high for the San Diego County Division).

The recruiter tried to talk me into the Navy Seals, but after he explained what extreme training the Seals had to undergo, with hell week, etc., I decided to go in a different direction and enlist for four years. I was guaranteed a Class A school after basic training in San Diego. The schooling was to become a Hospital Corpsman and the training would be at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. I wanted to think about it some. Interested in his reaction, I went home and told my father that I had joined the Navy. He looked at me and said, Oh, that’s good Carl. The Navy is a good choice. I figured the Navy must not be too bad, so I went back in a few days and joined. When you graduate from training, you are the equivalent of a paramedic. The Hospital Corpsmen were the ones they were sending to Vietnam to go out in the jungles where the battles were taking place.

Corpsmen are the field medics; the only downside was that out of every ten Corpsmen sent there, only two would come back alive— not very good odds for an 18 year old to consider. The Corpsmen did not even carry a weapon, and according to the Geneva Convention rules, could not be shot at; they only rendered first aid to the wounded. Of course, it does not work like that in war; the enemy usually does whatever it wants. Hospital Corps School had difficult classes such as nursing, physiology, anatomy, first aid and more.

I was learning new things and it felt good to be acquiring skills I could actually use. It was a big change from high school which seemed like a bunch of requirements, but no real life skills.

The problem was, I was in Naval Corpsman School only 25 miles from where I had grown up. I was drawn back to my friends and familiar town of Escondido when I was off-duty. I had a Triumph TR4 sports car that could really move. Before the 15 freeway was built, I could be back in Escondido in 20 minutes. The Old Highway 395 had some straight-aways I could cruise at 95-100 mph.

When I should have been studying, I was partying instead. It was like I had one foot in the past and one in the future, and it was tearing me apart. I had said my goodbyes to everyone. I was in for four years, but here only two and a half months later I was connecting with my old friends. My inner struggle was I wanted to be with them, but I couldn’t because I had a completely new life to live. I have to let go of the old and get busy with the new, the Navy.

I had one roommate back on the base whom I barely saw. One day I came back to our room and his belongings were all gone. I went to the office and asked where he was. The officer on duty told me he had been killed in a car accident. The officer on duty had his personal belongs packed up for the family. I was shocked.

The partying and the reality of what I was doing started to take a toll on me and my classes. One morning, they informed us that we would be greeting a few POWs (prisoners of war) that day. We were all assigned different positions around the hospital. I was out front. Three long black limousines pulled up and out came 10 or maybe 12 men in Navy dress uniforms. It was some of the POWs who had been released from Vietnam, and they were coming into Balboa Naval Hospital for treatment. They had been on the verge of starvation and I could see that even with their jackets on they were the thinnest people I had ever seen. They moved slowly as if every step hurt, and I am sure it did now that we know the suffering they went through for so many years. To see these men up close caused me to understand that life had some very stark realities.

I began to fall behind in classes and really wanted to just be in the regular Navy—whatever that was, whatever that meant. I requested to speak to the captain of the base to ask for a transfer. I stood before this seasoned captain in charge of the entire Balboa Naval Hospital Center and pleaded my case. He was not happy with me, but said that if I really did not want to take care of the men’s medical needs, then I should be assigned different duties. He looked in some book, called someone on the phone and said, Sailor! Pack your sea bag; you’re shipping out to Guam! I remember thinking, Guam, where is that?

GUAM, HERE I COME!

I was given 72 hours to get things in order and was told it would be at least a 15-month tour. I caught a Navy flight out of Travis in the San Francisco area which stopped in Hawaii to refuel. I asked someone, Where is Guam? They said it was a little dot in the ocean way over by the Philippines, and Hawaii was not even halfway there. They went on to say that it was a tropical island with beautiful beaches. I thought, wow, that doesn’t sound so bad.

After the plane refueled in Hawaii, we kept flying over the Pacific Ocean with nothing but water under us, and lots of blue sky; this was the farthest from home I had ever been.

Another seven hours past Hawaii I felt the plane going down fast, and I looked out to see us flying over jungle. It seemed like we were trimming the trees as I looked out the window and saw some villages with palm tree thatched shacks, and yes some pristine white sandy beaches, with crystal clear blue water you could see right through. I felt like I had just flown into a National Geographic story. I also felt that I would never be the same after spending 15 months here. I wondered if I had done the right thing.

As we left the plane and stepped out onto the tarmac, I could barely look up at the sky it was so bright. In Guam, a sunburn only takes about five minutes and the daylight is brighter; it took me about three or four weeks until I could open my eyes outside without sunglasses. A Navy driver was there to pick me up at the Anderson Air Force Base in Guam. I was his only passenger; he told me that there were four different naval bases in Guam and that I was going to the best—the Communications Station. I will never forget how surreal it appeared as we drove through the jungle on that small two-lane coral reef road. They use coral instead of asphalt for their roads. The coral is so plentiful in the ocean around Guam, they grind it up, add some tar to make it stick together and use it for making surfaces to drive on. The only drawback is it is slippery when wet.

We drove up to the main gate of N.C.S. (Naval Communications Station) where a Marine sentry with a rifle on his shoulder and a 45-caliber pistol on his side was standing watch. He motioned for us to stop. Next to him was a very strange sight; a bluish small creek of ground-up paper was running down the hill about a 150 yards from a large industrial-looking concrete building. These buildings had no windows. A Marine stood watch at the only entrance, and I could see him checking everyone’s I.D. before allowing them to pass. This messy-looking stuff flowed its way to the side of the main gate. I asked the driver, What in the world is that stuff? He told me that everything at this N.C.S. was top secret and the stuff that was slowly flowing (more like creeping) along the side of the road was actually highly classified or secret documents that had been shredded, then dyed blue. After soaking in the dye, they ran out of the building and on down the street.

In front of the headquarters was a large flag of the United States flying high on a pole in the bluest sky I have ever seen. Navy officers wearing dress white uniforms were coming and going. There was actually kind of a buzz going on in and around this place. I was taken into headquarters and assigned to work as a security policeman on the base. That was fine with me, sounded rather fun and I was even proud to serve my country in such a special place.

I was given different uniforms, training on small weapons, and I learned to use the police radio communication system. I was trained under a Guamanian who had joined the Navy and got to stay right there on his home island. His name was Joe. He was a friendly guy with a huge smile. He not only had several years experience in the Navy but also had grown up in Guam, so