Whatever their planned target, the mortar rounds landed in an orphanage in the small Vietnamese village. The orphanage staff and one or two children were killed outright, and several more children were wounded, including one girl about eight years old.

Medical help came first in the form of an American Navy doctor and nurse, who arrived in a jeep with only their medical kits. They established that the girl would soon die of shock and loss of blood unless she received a transfusion. A quick test showed that neither American had the correct blood type, but several of the uninjured orphans did.

The doctor spoke some pidgin Vietnamese, and the nurse a smattering of high-school French. Using that combination and impromptu sign language, they tried to explain the situation to the young, frightened audience. Then they asked if anyone would be willing to give blood to help save the girl's life.

Their request was met with wide-eyed silence. After several long moments a small hand slowly went up, dropped back down, and then went up again.

"Oh, thank you," the nurse said in French. "What is your name?"

"Heng," came the reply.

Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends.

Heng was quickly laid on a pallet, his arm swabbed with alcohol, and a needle inserted in his vein. Through this ordeal Heng lay stiff and silent.

After a moment, he let out a shuddering sob and quickly covered his face with his free hand.

"Is it hurting, Heng?" the doctor asked.

Heng shook his head, but after a few moments another sob escaped, and once more he tried to cover up his crying.

Occasional sobs gave way to a steady, silent crying. Heng's eyes screwed tightly shut, his fist in his mouth to stifle his sobs.

At this point, a Vietnamese nurse arrived to help. Seeing the little one's distress, she spoke to him rapidly in Vietnamese, listened to his reply and answered him in a soothing voice.

Heng stopped crying and looked questioningly at the Vietnamese nurse. When she nodded, a look of great relief spread over his face.

Glancing up, the nurse told the Americans, "He thought he was dying. He misunderstood you. He thought you had asked him to give all his blood so the little girl could live."

"But why would he be willing to do that?" asked the Navy nurse.

The Vietnamese nurse repeated the question to the little boy, who answered simply, "She is my friend."

"Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends" (John 15:13)."