P a g e | 1 Four Immortal Chaplains (77 years later) There’s a true story that ironically has the beginnings of good joke—there was a rabbi, a priest, and two Protestant pastors. But when these four men came together for the first time it was anything but a joke. When they met at the Army Chaplains School at Harvard in 1942, each was responding out of love of country and fellowman, just as my adoptive father did that very summer when he joined the Navy immediately after his college graduation. George Fox, a Pennsylvania native who had served Methodist parishes in New England, was 40, a decade older than the other three. He had already served with valor as an ambulance driver in World War I. Alexander Goode, a Brooklyn native but who had grown up in Washington, D.C. and after rabbinical training had just earned a Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins University. Clark V. Poling, a Dutch Reformed pastor, who had grown up in Ohio and studied at Yale Divinity before serving parishes in Connecticut and New York. P a g e | 2 John Washington, ordained priest in 1935, had served Roman Catholic parishes in his native New Jersey. It is said that these four men instantly bonded at Harvard’s Chaplains’ School, where they were described as being “in the thick of it,” bonding with laughter and prayer and goodwill. Commissioned as First Lieutenants, they had reported to different bases around the country but were delighted to find themselves together in late 1942 when they were assigned as chaplains on the USAT Dorchester, a 368-foot long former cruise ship which had been converted for military transport. Designed for 390 crew and passengers, the Dorchester took on 900 sailors and soldiers. Crowded and uncomfortable, the Dorchester headed from New York Harbor to Greenland by way of Newfoundland. These soldiers and sailors were mostly in their late teens and early twenties and green with seasickness on what was no pleasure cruise. They were understandably frightened, as German submarines had already sunk many ships. P a g e | 3 Sick themselves, the four chaplains bonded with the men, encouraged them, spent time with them, playing cards, telling jokes, talking. Each of the chaplains welcomed all to their services, and some of the men attended every service they could. Jewish soldiers at Roman Catholic Mass, Roman Catholic sailors at Protestant services, all bound together by a common cause, a shared humanity. When the ship stopped in Newfoundland for a ten-day Ruck march, Rabbi Goode, Father Washington, Pastor Poling, and Pastor Fox were right there with them, marching beside the men, with their own weighted packs on, refusing either to pull rank or take time off. Aboard the Dorchester again and headed towards Greenland, they formed a convoy, with three Coast Guard cutters and two small ships, going through a slice of the North Atlantic known as “Torpedo Junction,” where German U-boats had being sinking Allied ships at the rate of 100 per month. Word soon came that German submarines were following the convoy, operating together in groups known as wolf packs. Depth charges kept the wolf pack at bay for a time, but the captain of the Dorchester ordered vigilance—everyone, day P a g e | 4 and night, was ordered to remain in full gear, life- vests on at all times, even while sleeping. But it was hot below board and many did not follow the Captain’s orders, though the four chaplains went through the ship reminding everyone to sleep in full gear. 77 years ago, at one o’clock in the morning of February 3rd, 1943, there was a tremendous explosion when a torpedo struck the starboard side of the Dorchester. All went black. It is said that a second explosion killed 100 men instantly. Through the narrow stairways, men were running, panicking, everyone for himself, many without life jackets, some without clothes at all, all trying to reach lifeboats, many of which were frozen solid to the ship. The chaplains were among the first to make it to the deck. It is said that they acted much like traffic cops in the midst of a New York traffic jam, caring for injured men, even hearing brief confessions. Rabbi Goode took out his own shoelaces to fasten an ill-fitting lifejacket around an injured man. Another man was trying to go back down the stairs, said he had forgotten his gloves. The rabbi P a g e | 5 gave him his gloves, claiming he had an extra pair. When the lifejackets had run out, the four chaplains took off their own and gave them to men without. Eighteen minutes from the first torpedo strike, the Dorchester sank. Almost 700 died in the icy waters, the third largest loss of life at sea for the United States in World War II. Those four immortal chaplains were last seen atop the sinking vessel, arms locked together in prayer. One survivor declared it, “The finest thing I have ever seen this side of heaven.” Four chaplains. Two faiths. But, as we share a common humanity, it could have been any number of faiths yet still one God and Father of all. So often we think that the peace of God is about insulation from hardship and difficulty, when really it is about the love of God and our fellowman, when in reality the peace of God is about the rock solid promise that nothing, not P a g e | 6 even death, has the power to take away our relationship with the God who holds us and gives us life, forever. As we remember the sacrifice of these Immortal Chaplains, the sacrifices of all those who have loved us and cared for us, may we remember God is always here, ready to gather us in safety under those wings. The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?,* The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid. Psalm 27.1 .