April, 1971. I was in the U.S. Army, stationed at Fort Devens, Massachusetts, just outside Ayer (Pronounced “Aaayah! ), Massachusetts. 

As a civilian I had been an actor, playwright and director, and now served as Director of the Fort Devens Playhouse.

Being so close to New York City, I made frequent trips to see Theatre there.  

One Sunday morning, at  Four A.M., returning by bus from New York to Fort Devens, I noticed I didn’t recognize any of the stops as the bus driver announced them. Confused, I went forward   and asked, “How long before we get to Ayer?”

“That was about twenty minutes ago,” came his monotone reply.

I had fallen asleep and missed my stop!    

I departed the bus.

A small, battered car pulled alongside me. One of its three inhabitants asked me, “Need a ride?” I got in the car.

“To Fort Devens. Where are you heading?”   

“Framingham!” came his answer from behind missing teeth. 

He then pulled out a bottle of whiskey and shared it with his friends, all of them dressed like rodeo cowboys.  

The car drove on, the men drank more, and I tried to hide my fear.  

I saw the lights of a small town ahead. The signpost spelled out “Milford.” There was even a Police Station next to the sign! My traveling companions let me leave.

Inside the Police Station, I told my story to one of Milford’s Finest, a young man of about nineteen. He looked at a map, then at a couple of books.

“”What’s that name again? The name of that place?”

“Fort Devens.” 

“Not on any of the maps! None of the books, either!”

“A United States Army Fort that employs thousands of people isn’t on your map?”

“Not there, can’t find it!”

The sun slowly rose over Milford as I walked along highways and through fields, freezing in the thin slacks and sports jacket I was wearing. I heard a rooster crow and looked toward the sun when I noticed it was snowing! Within seconds, everything was covered in a white blizzard

I started to laugh, then cried out, “Thanks, God! Now I can really relate to Job! Is this the way it ends for me?

After walking for what seemed like miles in the snow, I was shocked when a large, antique car with huge headlights and gigantic rear fins came down the road! A man in his early thirties got out and called out to me, 

“Need some help?”

He drove me back to Fort Devens. He had been on his usual Sunday morning  drive, to relax away from the wife and kids. 

But for me, he was an angel…An angel in the snow!

Shared by Scott Baker