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Text
to love and serve
world war II chaplains of the
new england province of jesuits
Edited by Joseph P. Duffy, S.J., Boston College
�dedicated to:
graduates of new england jesuit higher education
and secondary school institutions
who died serving their country
�to love and serve
Table of Contents
6 – 7
5
Acknowledgements
31–32
Bronze Star Medal
Introduction
33
Navy and Marine
Corps Medal
34
Air Force Commendation Medal
35
Army Commendation Medal
36
chapter 4
37 In Their Own Words
chapter 1
8 – 9
First Chaplain
chapter 2
10 Men for Others
11 – 25
Chaplain Service Records
chapter 3
26 – 36 The Medals and the Men
2
6 – 27
Citations and Awards
28
Medal of Honor
29
30
Purple Heart
Legion of Merit
3 | table of contents
38–39
40–41
Fighting in France
The Bravest Man
I Ever Knew
42–43
Benemerenti Medal
44–58
The American Spirit
Journey to Morocco
�to love and serve
Table of Contents (continued)
59
Battlefield Promotion
60
Darwin’s Dead
82–86
61–64
Worship in Wartime
65–68
Parable of Redemption
Pastoral Ministry
69
70–73
The Padre Reports
74–79
Veterans Day Remembrance
80
Afterword
81
New England Province
Military Chaplains,
1918–2014
87–89
New England Province
Military Chaplains,
Number By Year,
1942–2014
90
New England Province
Military Chaplains,
Post World War II
91–93
4 | table of contents
Appendices
Photo Gallery
�to love and serve
Acknowledgements
this volume would not have been possible without the exhaustive research of
gerard f. giblin, s.j. on jesuits as chaplains in the armed forces. Much of this story
of New England Province Jesuit Chaplains in World War II is built on that firm foundation.
More immediately I am indebted to David Horn, Special Projects Librarian, Burns Library,
Boston College and Shelley Barber, Reference and Archives Specialist, Burns Library, for their
cooperation, especially in retrieving materials.
D
eserving special appreciation is Alice
Howe, Curator of Collections, New England Jesuit Archives, College of the Holy
Cross. Her editing, formatting and constructive
suggestions were immensely helpful. She was also
more than generous with her time during my visits
to Holy Cross and provided for my review and consideration everything that I requested as well as additional materials she thought might be of interest.
And worthy of special mention is Ben Birnbaum,
Executive Director, Office of Marketing Communications, for his interest in and his support of this
5 | acknowledgements
project and for making available the expertise
of his staff in bringing it to completion.
I also wish to acknowledge America and
Company magazines for granting permission
to reprint articles from their publications that
are valuable contributions to this story of a
special time in Jesuit and American history.
Finally, my deep gratitude to my good friend
and colleague, the late Dr. Thomas H. O’Connor,
University Historian, Boston College, for his
constant encouragement, gentle guidance and
professional assistance all along the way.
�to love and serve
Introduction
In the Contemplation on the Love of God that concludes the Spiritual Exercises of St.
Ignatius, the grace petitioned is that one “may be able in all things to love and serve”1
the Lord. That ideal of love and service is at the heart of the Jesuit vocation and the
motivating force behind whatever apostolic activities are undertaken on behalf of
the People of God. That this extends to the men and women in the armed forces of their
respective countries should come as no surprise. Such service has been part of Jesuit history
since its earliest years.
R
ev. James Laynez, S.J., who succeeded St.
Ignatius as General of the Society of Jesus,
was the first Jesuit to serve as a military
chaplain. In 1550 he was invited by John de Vega
to accompany him and his men in a war against
pirates in the eastern Mediterranean. As chaplain
Laynez ministered to both the physical and spiritual needs of the fighting forces. From this experience he offered advice about engaging chaplains
in the military to John de la Cerda, who had been
appointed Viceroy of Sicily after de Vega’s death.
“I believe that our Lord will be very well served
and Your Excellency much consoled if you send
some good religious along on this expedition, men
who will be true servants of God and who will seek
the salvation of souls. By prayer and good example,
by preaching and hearing confessions, by nursing the sick and helping the dying, these men will
do a tremendous amount of good. They will teach
the soldiers the proper motives for fighting, keep
them from quarreling among themselves, and will
call them to task for blasphemies and gambling.
Finally, I know that the soldiers of our nation will
really profit from this, for by their peace of mind
and confidence in God they will better fulfill their
2
duties in the war.”
Despite all the changes over the centuries in
how wars are conducted, the role of the Catholic
chaplain has remained essentially the same in our
own nation as well as in nations throughout the
world. And Jesuits have been leaders among those
who have served their various countries with honor
and distinction. Rev. Gerard F. Giblin, S.J. has
documented the records of Jesuits in the United
States who served in the Armed Forces from 1917
3
to 1960. Building on his detailed report, this
volume focuses on Jesuits from the New England
Province during World War II. At its peak in 1945,
246 American Jesuits were serving at chaplains.
The second largest number was from the New
England Province (54); only the New York
Province had more (59).
They were a part of what Tom Brokaw has
called “The Greatest Generation.” They responded
to our nation’s and our world’s need in the
company of and in support of young men mostly,
1 The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. (New York: Catholic Book Publishing, 1956), 115.
2 Joseph H. Fichter, James Laynez, Jesuit. (St. Louis, B. Herder Book Co., 1944), 277.
6 | introduction
�to love and serve
Introduction (continued)
much younger than themselves, and many
thousands of whom gave their lives in the
fight for freedom. All of these Chaplains have
long since gone to their eternal reward and,
like those whom and with whom they served,
with stories untold. Through their service
records, citations for “conspicuous gallantry
and intrepidity,” “meritorious achievement”
and “heroic conduct,” and in their own and in
the words of others, we catch a glimpse, not
only of their own generous service and often
courageous accomplishments, but also of their
appreciation and admiration for the youth of
our nation and for what one Chaplain described
as “The American Spirit.”
May 2014
Joseph P. Duffy, S.J.
3 Gerard F. Giblin, “Jesuits as Chaplains in the Armed Forces,” Woodstock Letters, 89, 323-482.
7 | introduction
�chapter 1 | to love and serve
First Chaplain
in american jesuit history one of the first to serve as a chaplain in the military was
none other than the renowned fr. john mcelroy, s.j., founder of boston college. For
reasons pragmatic and political rather than religious or spiritual, President James Polk was
anxious to have Catholic priests appointed as chaplains to American troops in the war
against Mexico.
W
ith the help of three Roman Catholic
bishops, he was able to secure the
services of Fr. John McElroy, S.J. at
the age of 64 and Fr. Anthony Rey, S.J., who
was 39 years of age.
The nature of their appointment was spelled
out in a letter to Fr. McElroy from the Secretary
of War W. L. Marcy. “It is proper that I should
apprize you that the existing laws do not authorize
the President to appoint and commission chaplains,
but he has authority to employ persons to perform
4
such duties as appertain to chaplains.” Marcy had
requested Fr. McElroy for his views of what those
duties might include and he was evidently pleased
that Marcy expressed them in his letter to General
Zachary Taylor, notifying him of their assignment.
“…it is his (Polk’s) wish that they be received in that
character (as chaplains) by you and your officers,
be respected as such and be treated with kindness
and courtesy – that they should be permitted to
have intercourse with the soldiers of the Catholic
Faith – to administer to them religious instruction,
to perform divine service for such as may wish to
attend whenever it can be done without interfering
with their military duties, and to have free access to
5
the sick or wounded in hospitals or elsewhere.”
After a long and difficult journey Father
McElroy arrived in Matamoras, Mexico where he
remained for a little more than ten months in 1846
and 1847 during which time he had been almost
constantly sick, suffering from a hernia condition.
This became so painful that some six months after
his arrival in Matamoras he was unable to mount a
horse to carry him around to the various hospitals.
Still it was in the various army hospitals that most
of his apostolic work was accomplished. His routine
involved daily Mass in a covered shed which served
as a sacristy, visits to the various buildings used as
hospitals, other visits to either troops moving up to
support the U. S. Army or returning units awaiting
discharge. As if this were not enough, in whatever
time he could spare, he began classes for the children of both merchants and Army personnel and
giving instructions to converts to Catholicism.
But apparently because of his age and physical
condition, in April 1847 he was directed by his
religious superior to return to Georgetown as soon
as convenient. (His fellow chaplain, Fr. Anthony
Rey, S.J., had been murdered by highway robbers
in 1847 during this conflict.) Before his return he
reflected on his ministry in Mexico and on the good
that can be accomplished in serving as a chaplain
4 John McElroy, “Chaplains for the Mexican War – 1846,” Woodstock Letters, 15, 200.
5 Ibid., 201.
8 | first chaplain
�chapter 1 | to love and serve
to members of the military. “I am now fully convinced, though I was not at the beginning of our
Mission, that our labors in these various departments had a happy effect on sectarian soldiers and
on the country generally. Not only time was necessary on our part to learn how to treat successfully
with the soldiers, both officers and privates, but also
it is important for them to have an opportunity of
learning somewhat of our religion, from our practice and our labors. Thus I found that those who
were shy in the commencement became familiar
and confident with us in the end. I think that very
few would depart this life either on the battlefield
from their wounds, or in the hospital by disease,
without accepting or calling for our ministry. It is in
such functions, our religion becomes in their eyes,
what it always was, a religion based upon charity,
6
having for its divine author the God of charity.”
A local newspaper offered an affirmation
of the impact that his presence as chaplain had on
the local community. “We are quite sure we express
the sentiments of every citizen of Matamoras when
we say it has sustained a loss in the departure from
our midst of Father McElroy. He was ever ready to
impart instruction or administer consolation to the
afflicted. His was not that cold, austere piety that
enshrouds itself in the cloak of bigotry and freezes
into an iceberg those who have been taught a different mode of worship. He held no one to accountability for a difference of opinion; his heart pulsated
only with devotion to his supreme Lord and Master,
7
and peace and good will to the human family.”
A later historian commented: “More good came
of Fr. McElroy’s and Fr. Rey’s chaplaincy than
McElroy could know. The two priests set an exemplary model in the Mexican war which their fellow
Catholic chaplains would follow in many later conflicts. They ministered to Catholic and non-Catholic
alike, to the enemy as well as their own people,
8
regardless of political or religious differences.”
The effects of their inspiring example are evident in
the dedicated service of the New England Province
Jesuits who have followed in their footsteps.
His loss to the citizens of Matamoras was to be
Boston’s gain where he was missioned upon his
return from Mexico and oversaw the founding of
Boston College, that, today, more than 150 years later
stands as the greatest monument in his memory.
6 John McElroy, “Chaplains for the Mexican War – 1846,” Woodstock Letters, 16, 228.
7 Ibid., 229.
8 Steven O’Brien, “Soldiers in Black: Father John McElroy and Father Anthony Rey in the Mexican-American War,”
Papers of the Bi-National Conference on the War between Mexico and the United States, ed. Douglas A. Murphy.
(Brownsville, TX: National Park Service, 1997).
9 | first chaplain
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Men for Others
world war ii chaplain service records
anyone involved with jesuit education for the past 40 years is familiar with the phrase,
“men for others” or its more recent and more inclusive variations, “men and women for others” or “persons for others.” It was first used by Father Pedro Arrupe, S.J., 28th General of the
Society of Jesus, in an address to the International Congress of Jesuit Alumni of Europe at
Valencia, Spain on July 31, 1973.
H
e stated that “our prime educational objective must be to form men-for-others…
men who cannot even conceive of love
of God which does not include love for the least
of our neighbors; men completely convinced that
love of God which does not issue in justice for men
9
is a farce.” The phrase with its ideal of unselfish
service has application in every area of our lives.
The military service records of our Jesuit chaplains
document such application in their readiness and
willingness to undertake any assignment, at home
or abroad, in which they can provide religious worship, supply moral support and spiritual guidance,
and bring the Sacraments to the sick, wounded and
dying under even the most dangerous and difficult
circumstances. For Americans engaged in the
struggle for peace in our country and around the
globe in World War II, they embodied what it truly
means to be “men for others.”
In an effort to achieve uniformity, where available, the following information has been included
in the service records:
n Name, dates of birth, entrance into Jesuits,
ordination and date of death.
n Date of commission and branch of service.
n Serial number.
n Date of appointment to various ranks.
n Place and date of assignments.
n Date of release from service.
n If recalled, second tour of duty.
n Awards.
This information is compiled from “Jesuits as Chaplains in the Armed Forces” by Gerard F. Giblin, S.J.,
Woodstock Letters, 89, 323-482.
9 Pedro Arrupe, “Men for Others,” Justice with Faith Today, ed. Jerome Aixala. (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources,
1980), 124.
10 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
john l. barry, s.j.
Born: 13 Jan 1911. Entered Jesuits: 9 Nov 1928. Ordained: 23 Jun 1940. Died: 3 Mar 1987. Commissioned
as First Lieutenant in the Army: 11 May 1945. Serial number: 0931664. To rank of Captain: 31 March 1953.
Assignment: Fort Jackson, SC (1945 to 1946).Recalled to active duty: Aug 1951. Assignments: Fort Leonard
Wood, MO (Aug 1951 to Dec 1951); Camp Gifu, Japan (Mar 1952 to May 1952); 11th Evacuation Hospital, Korea (May 1952 to Sep 1952); 7 th Division Artillery (Sep 1952 to Aug 1953); Fort Lee, VA (Sep 1953
to May 1955); Berlin, Germany (May 1955 to Feb 1958); Göppingen, Germany (Feb 1958 to Apr 1959);
Headquarters, 5th USA, Chicago (May 1959 to 1970) Awards: Bronze Star; Purple Heart.
john l. bonn, s.j.
Born: 23 Oct 1906. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1923. Ordained: 23 Jun 1935. Died: 17 Jan 1975. Commissioned
as Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Navy 7 Apr 1943. Serial number: 307221. To Lieutenant: 1 Jan 1945. Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (13 Sep 1943 to 7 Nov 1943); Naval Training Station, Great
Lakes, IL (19 Nov 1943 to 22 Jan 1944); Naval Air Station, Ottumwa, IA (27 Jan 1944 to 21 Oct 1944);
13th Naval District (Northwest coast of U.S.: 2 Jan 1945 until relieved of duty). Reverted to inactive status: 31
Oct 1945. Retired from Naval Reserve: 1 Jan 1954.
bernard r. boylan, s.j.
Born: 5 May 1905. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1924. Ordained 21 Jun 1936. Died: 29 Jan 1978. Commissioned
as Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Navy: 6 Mar 1943. Serial number: 262652. To Lieutenant: 1 Jun 1944. Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (18 Apr 1943 to 6 Jun 1943); Naval Hospital, New River, NC
(18 Jun 1943 to 7 Apr 1944); with Commander, 7 th Fleet, Australia (Apr 1944 to 14 Jun 1945); 88th Naval
Construction Battalion, New Guinea (14 Jun 1945 to 8 Oct 1945); Naval Air Base #3964, Philippines
(8 Oct 1945 to 14 Dec 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 28 Mar 1946. Appointed Lieutenant Commander
in the Naval Reserve. Resigned from the Naval Reserve: 9 Feb 1951. Award: Navy and Marine Corps Medal.
thomas a. brennan, s.j.
Born: 27 Dec 1895. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1915. Ordained: 20 Jun 1928. Died: 27 Dec 1967. Appointed to the
Army: 4 Apr 1945. Serial number: 0931744. Assignments: Chaplain School, Fort Devens, MA (11 May
1945 to 22 Jun 1945); Fort Mason, San Francisco, CA (22 Jun 1945 to 7 Jul 1945); Camp Stoneman, CA
(7 Jul 1945 to 14 Jul 1945); Fort Ord, CA (14 Jul 1945 to 17 Apr 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 17 May
1946. Retired as Captain in the Officers’ Reserve Corps: 1946.
11 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Laurence M. Brock, S.J.
Born: 30 May 1903. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1923. Ordained: 21 Jun 1935. Died: 9 Feb 1989. Appointed
to the Army: 16 Jan 1941. Serial number: 0403400. To rank of Major: (182nd Infantry, Mass. N. G.)
15 Nov. 1947; to Lieutenant Colonel: 12 Apr 1958. Assignments: 182nd Infantry Regiment, 26th Division,
Camp Edwards, MA (1941); 182nd Regiment, 26th Division, Southwest Pacific Area (1942 to 1944); Fort
Devens, MA (20 Jul 1944); 1448th SCU, Camp Blanding, FL (13 Nov 1944); 1400th SCU, Headquarters,
4th Service Command, Atlanta, GA (29 Jul 1945). Relieved of active duty: 15 May 1946. Award: Legion
of Merit.
Anthony G. Carroll, S.J.
Born: 9 Aug 1906. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1922. Ordained: 23 Jun 1935. Appointed to Army: 12 Jan 1940.
Serial number: 0386674. To the rank of Captain: 24 Apr 1942; to Major: 12 May 1945. Assignments: from
1942 to 1945 served with Army Air Force Units in Australia, New Guinea, Philippines and Japan. Served
in the United States and overseas with the 102nd Coast Artillery. Overseas with the following units: 380th
Bombardment Group; 8th Fighter Group; 5th Fighter Command. Reverted to inactive status: 9 Nov 1946.
John L. Clancy, S.J.
Born: 25 Oct 1903. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1922. Ordained: 20 Jun 1934. Died: 11 Apr 1984. Commissioned
in the Army as First lieutenant: 28 Dec 1937. Serial number: 0361159. To rank of Captain: 20 Jun 1942;
to Major: 27 Sep 1945. Assignments: Chaplain, Civilian Conservation Corps; Fort Edwards, MA with
68th Coast Artillery, 26th Division Special Troops, 181st Infantry Regiment; Eastern Defense Command;
Cushing General Hospital, Framingham, MA; Panamarim Field, Natal, Brazil; served also with units of
the Air Transport Command. Reverted to inactive status: 15 May 1946.JFCSJ
jeremiah f. coleman, s.j.
Born: 16 Jun 1911. Entered Jesuits: 7 Sep 1928. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Died: 7 May 1961. Appointed to
the Army: 6 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0549368. To the rank of Captain: 4 Apr 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (30 Apr 1944); Headquarters, 3rd Air Force, Tampa, FL (16 May 1944); 335 AAF
BU Dale Mabry Field, FL (15 Jun 1944); 354 AAF BU, Rapid City Air Base, SD (9 Nov 1945). Reverted to
inactive status: 14 Apr 1946. Recalled: 15 Jun 1951. Assignments: Camp Kilmer, NJ (1951); Germany
(1952). Returned to Camp Kilmer and relieved of active duty: 28 Oct. 1952.
12 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
J. Bryan Connors, S.J.
Born: 15 Mar 1898. Entered Jesuits: 15 Aug 1918. Ordained: 16 Jun 1931. Died: 24 Oct 1970. Appointed
to the Army: 27 Sep 1944. Serial number: 0927185. To the rank of Captain: 18 Sep 1945. Assignments:
Chaplain School, Fort Devens, MA (7 Oct 1944); Keesler Field, Biloxi, MS (1944 to 1946). Reverted to
inactive status: 20 May 1946.
Joseph P. Curran, S.J.
Born: 5 Jan 1910. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1929. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Appointed to the Army: 19 Apr
1944. Serial number: 0550495. To the rank of Captain: 25 Jun 1945. Assignments: Harvard Chaplain
School (30 Apr 1944); Venice, FL (12 Jun 1944 to Nov 1945), Stuttgart, AR (Nov 1945 to Dec 1945); Brooks
Field, San Antonio, TX (Dec 1945 to Jan 1946); Biggs Field, El Paso, TX (Jan 1946 to Feb. 1946); Mitchell
Field, NY (Feb 1946 to Apr 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 23 May 1946.
John F. Devlin, S.J.
Born: 25 Nov 1905. Entered Jesuits: 8 Sep 1927. Ordained: 19 Jun 1938. Died: 19 Nov 1981. Appointed
to the Army: 24 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0550793. To the rank of Captain: 18 May 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (1 May 1944); Richmond Army Air Base, VA; Camp Springs Army Air Base,
Washington, DC; Bradley Field, Windsor Locks, CT; Westover Army Air Base, Chicopee, MA; Seymour
Johnson Army Air Base, Goldsboro, NC; Charleston Army Air Base, SC; Chatham Field, Savannah, GA;
Myrtle Beach Army Air Base, SC; Shaw Field, Sumter, SC. Reverted to inactive status: 19 May 1946.
James J. Dolan, S.J.
Born: 25 Apr 1903. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1920. Ordained: 22 Jun 1933. Died: 5 Mar 1952. Appointed to
the Army: 21 Dec 1940. Serial number: 0402252. To the rank of Captain: 1 Feb 1943; To Major: 30 Jan
1946. Assignments: 63rd Coast Artillery, Fort Bliss, TX (1941); Fort Lewis, WA (1941); Hawaii (10 Dec 1941
to 30 Nov 1942; Harvard Chaplain School (30 Nov 1942); 63rd Coast Artillery, Seattle WA (Feb 1943 to
Feb 1944); 13th Replacement Depot, Hawaii (28 Mar 1944); 751st AAA, Guam and Saipan (28 Jul 1944 to
end 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 30 May 1946. Award: Bronze Star.
13 | men for others
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Michael J. Doody, S.J.
Born: 25 Mar 1898. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1918. Ordained: 20 Jun 1932. Died: 10 Apr 1988. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 3 Mar 1942. Serial number: 139093. To Lieutenant Commander: 10 Jul 1945.
Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (6 Apr 1942 to 30 May 1942); Naval Hospital, Aiea Heights,
Hawaii (21 Jun 1942 to 10 Jan 1944); Naval Air Station, Glynco, Brunswick, GA (10 Feb 1944 to 23 Nov
1944); U.S.S. Richmond (cruiser) (19 Dec 1944 to 27 Nov 1945); Personnel Separation Center, Great Lakes,
IL (12 Dec 1945 to 22 Apr 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 19 Jul 1946. Resigned from Naval Reserve:
20 Jan 1954.
William J. Duffy, S. J.
Born: 1 Jan 1902. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1918. Ordained: 16 Jun 1931. Died: 23 Jul 1998. Appointed to the
Army: 25 Jan 1944. Serial number: 0544422. To the rank of Captain: 10 Oct 1945. Assignments: Harvard
Chaplain School (10 Feb 1944); Stark General Hospital, Charleston, SC; Finney General Hospital,
Thomasville, GA; 755th Anti-Aircraft Gun Battalion, Hawaii; Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. Reverted to
inactive status: 22 Oct 1946.
John J. Dugan, S.J.
Born: 26 Jun 1897. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1915. Ordained: 20 Jun 1928. Died: 6 Dec 1964. Appointed to
Army: 28 Aug 1936. Serial number: 0348200. To the rank of Captain: 6 Feb 1941; to Major: 18 Feb 1945;
to Lieutenant Colonel (Massachusetts National Guard): 11 May 1946; separated from the Mass. National
Guard as Colonel Jun 1953; separated from the Army Reserve as Lieutenant Colonel 25 May 1954.
Assignments: Chaplain USAR, CCC, VT (Nov 1937 to Jun 1940); Fort Riley, KS (Jun 1940 to Sep 1941);
to Philippines (Oct 1941); to Bilibid Prison, Manila (20 Jun 1942); to Cabanatuan, Luzon, Prison Camp #1
(3 Jul 1942); to Cabu, Luzon, Prison Camp #3 (10 Jul 1942); to Cabanatuan, Luzon, Prison Camp # 1 (1 Nov
th
1942); liberated by 6 Ranger Battalion (30 Jan 1945); arrived in San Francisco (8 May 1945); Chaplain,
Cushing General Hospital, Framingham, MA (May 1945). Relieved of active duty: 25 Aug 1946. Recalled:
21 Jun 1948. Assignments: Randolph Field, TX (Jun 1948); Oliver General Hospital, Augusta, GA (Sep 1949);
Fort Custer, MI (Feb 1950): Camp Crawford, Hokkaido, Japan (Oct 1950); Guam (Feb 1951); Manila (Feb 1952);
Camp Stewart, Hinesville, GA (Feb 1953). Relieved of active duty: Jun 1953. Awards: Bronze Star;
Army Commendation Ribbon.
14 | men for others
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Thomas A. Fay, S.J.
Born: 15 Jan 1892. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1911. Ordained: 28 Jun 1925. Died: 14 Mar 1969. Commissioned in
the United States Merchant Marine: 15 Dec 1942. Taught in Officers’ Schools on Hoffman Island, NY, Gallups
Island, Boston, and at Alameda, CA. Reached rank of Lieutenant Commander. Released from duty: Nov 1945.
Thomas P. Fay, S.J.
Born: 29 Aug 1905. Entered Jesuits: 14 Sep 1931. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Died: 23 Jun 1988. Appointed to
the Army: 12 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0549900. To the rank of Captain: 16 May 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (30 Apr 1944); in U. S. with 61st Ordnance Group; in U. S. and Europe with 1151
Engineer Combat Group and 3230 Engineer Service Battalion. Reverted to inactive duty status: 11 Aug
1946. Recalled 5 Aug 1948 and served with Air Force units for over a year during which time he was in
Germany for period of the Berlin Air Lift. Reverted to inactive duty: 3 Nov 1949. Award: Benemerenti
(Papal Decoration).
Bernard J. Finnegan, S.J.
Born: 9 Jan 1906. Entered Jesuits: 7 Sep 1929. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Died:19 Dec 1979. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 18 Jan 1945. Serial number: 445079. To Lieutenant Commander: 1 Aug 1951;
to Commander: 1 Jul 1956. Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (26 Feb 1945 to 21 Apr
1945); Naval Hospital, Shoemaker, CA (Apr 1945 to Jun 1945); U.S.S. Bottineau (attack troop transport)
(Jun 1945 to Dec 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 21 Mar 1946. Recalled: Oct 1950. Assignments: Naval Training Station, Newport, RI (Oct 1950 to Apr 1953); Assistant Fleet Chaplain, Commander, Service
Force, Atlantic, Norfolk, VA (Apr 1953 to Feb 1955); National Naval Medical Center, Bethesda, MD (Feb
1955 to Aug 1955); Naval Hospital, Newport, RI (Aug 1955 to 1957). Relieved of active duty: 1957.
John P. Foley, S.J.
Born: 6 Jun 1904. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1923. Ordained: 21 Jun 1936. Died: 21 Oct 1995. Commissioned
as Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Navy: 22 Feb 1942. Serial number: 133964. To Lieutenant: 1 Mar 1943;
to Lieutenant Commander: 3 Oct 1945. Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (20 Apr 1942 to 12
Jun 1942); U.S.S. George Clymer (attack transport) (25 Jun 1942 to 15 Mar 1944); National Naval Medical
Center, Bethesda, MD (30 May 1944 to 15 Jan 1945); U.S.S. Vella Gulf (escort carrier) (27 Jan 1945 to 10
Nov 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 14 Jan 1946. Resigned from the Naval Reserve: 6 Apr 1946.
15 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Frederick A. Gallagher, S.J.
Born: 5 Aug 1898. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 25 May 1964. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 11 Mar 1942. Serial number: 136485. To Lieutenant Commander: 1 Mar 1944;
to Commander: 5 Nov 1945. Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (20 Apr 1942 to 12 Jun 1942);
Marine Barracks, Parris Island, SC (15 Jun 1942 to 7 Oct 1942); U.S.S. Tryon (armed hospital evacuation
ship) (7 Oct 1942 to 11 Mar 1943); Fleet Marine Force, 1st Marine Amphibious Corps (11 Mar 1943 to
1 Aug 1944); Naval Hospital, St. Albans, NY (11 Sep 1944 to 2 May 1946). Reverted to inactive status:
16 Jul 1946. Resigned from the Naval Reserve: 20 Oct 1953.
James F. Geary, S.J.
Born: 21 May 1905. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1925. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 8 Sep 1980. Appointed
to the Army: 13 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0549986. To the rank of Captain: 1 Oct 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (30 Apr 1944); Infantry Training Battalion, Camp Croft, Spartanburg, SC;
Indiantown Gap, PA; Camp Kilmer, NJ; replacement depots, England, Belgium, Germany and France;
115th Station Hospital at Plaistow Downs, England, Metz, France and Augsburg, Germany. Reverted to
inactive status: 27 Jan 1946.
Thomas P. Hennessey, S.J.
Born: 30 Nov 1908. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1926. Ordained: 17 Jun 1939. Died: 10 Apr 1978. Appointed
to the Army: 6 Aug 1943. Serial number: 0530788. To the rank of Captain: 16 Oct 1944; to Major:
1 Aug 1947; to Lieutenant Colonel: 13 May 1956. Assignments: 7 th Service Command, Fort Riley, KS (1943
to 1944); Chaplain School (3 Jan 1944); to France with 11th Regiment, 5th Infantry Division (13 Jun 1944);
Fort Campbell, KY (23 Jul 1945); Walter Reed Hospital, Washington, DC (1946 to 1947); Fort Ruger,
Hawaii (1947 to 1948). Separated from service in 1948. Recalled to Army 1951. Assignments: Fort McClellan, AL (1951 to 1953); Eielson Air Base, Fairbanks, AK (1953 to 1955); 505th Missile Battalion, Fort Tilden, NY
(1955 to 1958); Metz and Orleans, France (1958–1960). Relieved of active duty: 1968. Award: Bronze Star.
Harry L. Huss, S.J.
Born: 23 May 1903. Entered Jesuits: 8 Sep 1926. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 25 Feb 1976. Appointed to
the Army: 28 Dec 1942. Serial number: 0509085. To the rank of Captain: Jul 1944; to Major: 19 Sep 1945.
Assignments: Harvard Chaplain School (3 Feb 1943); 52nd Coast Artillery, Fort Eustis, VA (3 Mar 1943),
and Fort Hancock, NJ (1 Apr 1943); 181st Infantry, Fort Devens, MA (Nov 1943). (continued)
16 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Harry L. Huss, S.J. (continued)
Assignments overseas: (1944 and 1945): Western Base Section, Chester, England; Channel Base Section,
Lille, France; Chanor Base Section, Brussels, Belgium. Reverted to inactive status: 5 Jun 1946. Award:
Bronze Star.
John J. Kelleher, S.J.
Born: 18 Sep 1908. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1928. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Died: 16 Dec 1964. Appointed to
the Army: 19 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0550493. To the rank of Captain: 21 Feb 1945; to Major: 12 Apr
1948; to Lieutenant Colonel: 10 May 1955. Assignments: Harvard Chaplain School (30 Apr 1944); Camp
Atterbury, IN and Crile General Hospital, Cleveland, OH (1944); Hawaii (1944 to 1945); Governors
Island, NY and Fort Dix, NJ (1946); Fort Monmouth, NJ and New Mexico (1947); Fort Sam Houston, TX
(1948); Okinawa (1949); Camp Gordon, GA (1950); U. S. Army, Europe (1951 to 1953); Camp Kilmer, NJ
(1954); Camp Dix, NJ (1955 to 1957); U. S. Forces, Caribbean (1957 to 1958); Nike Base, Coventry, RI (1958);
Headquarters, 11th Artillery Group, Rehoboth, MA (1959 to 1960); Headquarters, 11th Engineer Group,
Schwetzingen, Germany (Apr 1960 to 1964). Relieved of active duty with the rank of Major: 1964.
William J. Kenealy, S.J.
Born: 30 Jul 1904. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1922. Ordained: 20 Jun 1934. Died: 2 Mar 1974. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 2 Jan 1943. Serial number: 246575. To Lieutenant Commander: 3 Oct 1945.
Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (22 Feb 1943 to 25 Apr 1943); Pre-Flight School, St. Mary’s
College, CA (12 May 1943 to 15 Sep 1943); U.S.S. California (battleship) (26 Sep 1943 until relieved from
duty) during which time he saw service in the invasions of Guam, Saipan, Tinian, Palau Islands, Leyte
Gulf, Lingayan Gulf, and Okinawa; participated in the sea battle of Surigao Strait. Reverted to inactive
status: 6 Feb 1946. Retired from the Naval Reserve: 1 Nov 1953.
Walter E. Kennedy, S.J.
Born: 20 Nov 1910. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1928. Ordained: 22 Jun 1940. Died: 5 Dec. 1966. Appointed to
the Army: 27 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0551228. To the rank of Captain: Feb 1945. Assignments: Harvard
Chaplain School (1 May 1944); Fort Leonard Wood, MO, as Chaplain for Engineers; Camp Barkeley, TX;
189th General Hospital, Lison, France; 189th General Hospital and 333rd Engineers, Mourmelon-le-Grand,
France; Assistant Chaplain, Base Section, Rheims, France; Base Section Chaplain, Bad Nauheim
Germany, Continental Base. Reverted to inactive status with the rank of Major: 4 May 1946.
17 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
George A. King, S.J.
Born: 23 Oct 1907. Entered Jesuits: 15 Aug 1925. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 6 Jan 1965. Appointed
to the Army: 26 Aug 1942. Serial number: 0492181. To the rank of Captain: 1 Feb 1944; to Major:
6 Apr 1945. Assignments: 48th Evacuation Hospital, Tennessee Maneuvers (Aug to Oct 1942); Chaplain
School, Fort Devens, MA (30 Nov 1942); Ledo Road, Assam through Burma (March 1943); Base Chaplain,
Chabua, India, serving also units of Air Service Command and 10th Air Force (Nov 1943 to Nov 1944);
Headquarters, ADMAC, American New Delhi Command (Nov 1944 to Sep 1945). Reverted to inactive
status: 4 Feb 1946.
William J. Leonard, S.J.
Born: 10 Apr 1908. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1925. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 11 Feb 2000. Appointed to
the Army: 24 Jan 1944. Serial number: 0544318. To the rank of Captain: 26 Jun 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (10 Feb 1944); 86th Infantry Division, Camp Livingston, Alexandria, LA;
9th Ordnance Battalion, Finschhafen, New Guinea and Mangaldan, Luzon; Headquarters Base X, Manila.
Reverted to inactive status: 28 Jul 1946.JJLS
john j. long, s.j.
Born: 20 Feb 1904. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1920. Ordained: 22 Jun 1933. Died: 17 Jul 1964. Appointed
to the Army: 31 Jul 1942. Serial number: 0487098. To the rank of Captain: 19 Mar 1943; to Major: 25 Oct
1943; to Lieutenant Colonel: 19 Jul 1946. Assignments: Mitchell Field, Long Island (1942 to 1944);
5th Air Force, Southwest Pacific, Philippines and Japan (1944 to 1946). Reverted to inactive status:
27 Oct 1946. Recalled to the Army: 22 Jul 1947. Assignments: 28th Bombardment Wing, Rapid City, SD
(1947 to 1948); Antilles Air Division, Puerto Rico (1948 to 1949); Caribbean Air Command, Panama,
Canal Zone (1949 to 1951); Lackland Air Force Base, TX (1951 to 1953); Headquarters, 5th Air Division,
French Morocco (1953 to 1954); Loring Air Force Base, ME (1954 to 1956). In Aug 1949 Father Long was
transferred to the Air Force; Serial number: A0487098. Reverted to inactive status: 1 May 1956.
Daniel J. Lynch, S.J.
Born: 1 Jan 1879. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1900. Ordained: 28 Jun 1916. Died: 13 Nov 1952.
Commissioned as First Lieutenant in the Army: 16 Apr 1918. Stationed at Blois and Tours with the
310th Infantry, 78th Division. Brigaded with the British near Arras. In action at the St. Mihiel
Offensive at Thiaucourt, and Liney Sector at St. Juvin in Meuse-Argonne Offensive. Cited by
General Pershing in a letter dated 11 Nov 1919 for conspicuous and meritorious (continued)
18 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
daniel j. lynch, s.j. (continued)
service at Bois des Loges. Discharged 29 May 1919 at Camp Lee, VA. To the rank of Captain:
31 Dec 1924; to Major: (National Guard) 20 Jul 1935; to Lieutenant Colonel: (National Guard) 15 May
1936. Recalled to the Army: 16 Jan 1941. Serial number: 0208785. Assignment: Assistant Chaplain
26th Division at Camp Edwards, MA and Fort Devens, MA (16 Jan 1941 to 19 Feb 1942). Honorably
discharged for physical disability resulting from a heart attack: 7 May 1942. Appointed Brigadier General,
Massachusetts Organized Militia: 16 Dec 1946. Award: Purple Heart.
John F. Lyons, S.J.
Born: 22 Oct 1904. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1926. Ordained: 17 Jun 1939. Died: 17 Jul 1964. Appointed
to the Army: 24 Jan 1944. Serial number: 0544278. To the rank of Captain: 16 Aug 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (11 Feb 1944); Mason General Hospital, Brentwood, Long Island (1944);
34th General Hospital, Atlantic City, NJ, and France (1944); 48th General Hospital, France (1944);
305th Bombardment Group, France (1945); 305th and 306th Bombardment Group, France (1946);
414th Air Service Group, France (1946). Reverted to inactive status: 17 Feb 1947.
Francis J. MacDonald, S.J.
Born: 29 Mar 1897. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 14 Dec 1979. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 11 Sep 1942. Serial number: 207850. To Lieutenant Commander: 3 Oct 1945.
Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (5 Oct 1942 to 29 Nov 1942); Mobile Hospital #7 (12 Mar 1943
to 22 May 1944); Naval Training Center, Bainbridge (13 Jul 1944 to 2 Mar 1945); U.S.S. Tutuila (15 Apr
1945 to Oct 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 13 Mar 1946. Released from Naval Reserve: 15 Oct 1954.
Harry C. MacLeod, S.J.
Born: 23 Aug 1900. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Commissioned as Lieutenant
in the Navy: 21 Aug 1942. Serial number: 200219. To Lieutenant Commander: 3 Oct 1945. Assignments:
Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (21 Sep 1942 to 13 Nov 1942); Amphibious Training Base, Solomons, MD
(23 Nov 1942 to 3 Aug 1943); Commander Naval Base, FOLD (6 Oct 1943 to 20 Mar 1944); Landing Craft
Repair Base #2 (8 Apr 1944 to Jan 1945); Naval Hospital, Fort Eustis, VA (22 Apr 1945 until relieved of
active duty). Reverted to inactive status: 1 Dec 1946.
19 | men for others
DJLS
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Leo P. McCauley, S.J.
Born: 8 May 1904. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1922. Ordained: 20 Jun 1934. Died: 31 Dec 1993. Commissioned as Lieutenant in the Navy: 31 Aug 1943. Serial number: 317540. To Lieutenant Commander:
3 Oct 1945. Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (11 Oct 1943 to 5 Dec 1943); Naval
Construction Training Center, Camp Peary, Williamsburg, VA (11 Dec 1943 to 11 Apr 1944); USN
Advanced Base, Dartmouth, Devon, England (May 1944 to August 1944); Naval Advanced Base, Fowey,
Cornwall, England (Aug 1944 to Oct 1944); Port Chaplain, Le Havre, France (Oct 1944 to Jul 1945);
Port Hueneme, CA (12 Aug 1945 to Mar 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 12 Mar 1946.
James D. McLaughlin, S.J.
Born: 11 Nov 1901. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 24 Dec 1977. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 6 Nov 1943. Serial number: 335812. To Lieutenant Commander: 1 Jan 1946.
Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (3 Jan 1944 to 27 Feb 1944); Naval Hospital, San Diego
(12 Mar 1944 to 7 Jul 1944); 2nd Naval Construction Brigade (13 Jul 1944 to 2 Dec 1944); 121st Naval
Construction Base (2 Dec 1944 until relieved of active duty). Reverted to inactive status: 31 July 1946.
Released from the Naval Reserve: 15 Oct 1954.
Carl H. Morgan, S.J.
Born: 24 Mar 1908. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1926. Ordained: 19 Jun 1938. Appointed to the Army: 1 Feb
1945. Serial number: 0930671. To the rank of Captain: 27 Sep 1950. Assignments: Chaplain School, Fort
Devens, MA ((Feb 1945); Fort Wadsworth, South Island (Aug 1946 to May 1947); 11th Airborne, Sapporo,
Japan (May 1947 to Jan 1948); Osaka Army Hospital (Jan 1948 to Nov 1949); 82nd Airborne, Fayetteville
(Nov 1949 to Jul 1950); 8069 Replacement Depot, Sasebo (Jul 1950 to Dec 1950); Headquarters, Kobe
Base (Dec 1950 to Oct 1951); 279th General Hospital, Sakai (Oct 1951 to Dec 1952); 8022 A.U., Kumamoto
(Dec 1952); Fort Lee, VA (1953 to 1954). Reverted to inactive status: 30 Nov 1954.
Francis J. Murphy, S.J.
Born: 15 Jul 1905. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1924. Ordained: 21 Jun 1936. Died: 31 May 1995. Appointed to
the Army: 27 Mar 1945. Serial number: 0931658. To the rank of Captain: 24 Dec 1945. Assignments: Fort
Devens Chaplain School (11 May 1945); 33rd Infantry Division, Philippines (1945); 123rd Infantry Regiment,
Kobe, Japan (1945); Japan (1946); 38th Regimental Combat Team, Camp Carson, CO (1947). Relieved of
active duty: 16 July 1947. Recalled for a short time and again relieved: 4 May 1948.
20 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
George M. Murphy, S.J.
Born: 13 Oct 1899. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 11 Jun 1971. Commissioned
First Lieutenant in the Army Reserve: 26 Aug 1938. Resigned: 28 Aug 1940. Commissioned First
Lieutenant in Massachusetts National Guard: 13 Aug 1940. Ordered into active service: 16 Sep 1940.
Serial number: 0371536. To the rank of Captain: 28 May 1942; to Major: 31 Jul 1945. Assignments:
241st Coast Artillery, Fort Andrews, MA (26 Sep 1940 to 9 Mar 1942); 50th Coast Artillery, Camp Pendleton, VA (4 Mar 1942 to 3 Apr 1942); Headquarters, Headquarters Battery and 3rd Battalion, 50th Coast
Artillery, and 20th Coast Artillery, Galveston (3 Apr 1942 to 4 Jun 1942); 50th Coast Artillery, Camp
Pendleton, VA (4 Jun 1942 to 5 Aug 1942); Harvard Chaplain School (5 Aug 1942 to 17 Sep 1942); Camp
Pendleton, VA (17 Sep 1942 to 10 Dec 1942); Chaplain, Harbor Defenses, Key West, FL (10 Dec 1942 to 13
May 1943); 50th Coast Artillery Regiment, Montauk Point, NY (13 May 1943 to 20 Sep 1943); Fort McKinley, Casco Bay, ME (20 Sep 1943 to 14 Dec 1943); Camp Hero, Montauk Point, NY (14 Dec 1943 to 14 Jan
1944); Headquarters, 16th Cavalry, Framingham, MA (17 Jan 1944 to 18 May 1944); 2nd Coast Artillery,
Fort Story, VA (18 May 1944 to 15 Jun 1944); Harbor Defenses, Chesapeake Bay (15 Jun 1944 to 25 Sep
1944); Woodrow Wilson General Hospital, Staunton, VA (25 Sep 1944 to 29 Dec 1944); Valley Forge
General Hospital, Phoenixville, PA (29 Dec 1944 to 31 Jan 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 18 Jun 1946.
Award: Army Commendation Ribbon.
Paul J. Murphy, S.J.
Born: 18 Nov 1908. Entered Jesuits: 7 Sep 1926. Ordained: 19 Jun 1938. Died: 27 Aug 1990. Originally
appointed as chaplain in the U. S. Maritime Service: Feb 1943. Served at Officers’ School, Alameda, CA,
until May 1944. Commissioned as Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Navy: 7 Jun 1944. Serial number: 394865.
To Lieutenant: 1 Feb 1946. Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (3 Jul 1944 to 27 Aug 1944);
Naval Hospital, Great Lakes, IL (8 Sep 1944 to 12 Mar 1945); Bogue Field, NC (18 Mar 1945 to 22 Aug 1945);
U.S.S. General Meigs (transport) (22 Aug 1945 to Mar 1946); Naval Hospital, Newport, RI (16 Mar 1946
until relieved). Reverted to inactive status: 14 Jul 1946. Resigned from the Naval Reserve: 13 Oct 1953.
Vincent de P. O’Brien, S.J.
Born: 23 Aug 1907. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1925. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 5 Jul 1987. Served with
the United States Maritime Service: Feb 1945 to Dec 1945.
21 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Joseph T. O’Callahan, S.J.
Born; 14 May 1905. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1922. Ordained: 20 Jun 1934. Died: 18 Mar 1964.
Commissioned at Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Navy: 7 Aug 1940. Serial number: 87280. To Lieutenant:
2 Jan 1942; to Lieutenant Commander: 1 Jul 1943; to Commander: 20 Jul 1945. Assignments: Naval
Air Station, Pensacola (23 Nov 1940 to 20 Apr 1942); U.S.S. Ranger (carrier) (31 May 1942 to
May 1944) during which time the carrier served in North Atlantic waters and in the invasion
of North Africa; Naval Air Station, Alameda (May 1944 to Dec 1944); Naval Air Station, Hawaii
(23 Dec 1944 to 2 Mar 1945); U.S.S. Franklin (2 Mar 1945 to 8 Apr 1946) during which time the
carrier was hit by enemy bombs in waters off the coast of Japan, 19 Mar 1945; Bureau of Personnel (April 1945 until relieved of active duty). Acted as official escort chaplain for the body of
Manuel Quezon (first president of the Philippine Islands) from Washington, DC to Manila, P.I.
Reverted to inactive status: 12 Nov 1946. Retired from the Naval Reserve: 1 Nov 1953.
Awards: Medal of Honor; Purple Heart.
Daniel F. X. O’Connor, S.J.
Born: 12 Oct 1900. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1918. Ordained: 16 Jun 1931. Died: 12 Sep 1958. Commissioned as Lieutenant in the Navy: 18 May 1942. Serial number: 169209. To Lieutenant Commander:
17 Oct 1944. Assignments: Chaplain School, Norfolk, VA (6 Jul 1942 to 28 Aug 1942); Naval
Hospital, Corona, CA (10 Sep 1942 to 10 Sep 1943); 14th Naval District, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
(18 Sep 1943 to 10 Jan 1944); Naval Operating Base, Midway Island (10 Jan 1944 to 10 Oct 1944);
Iroquois Point, Oahu, Hawaii (13 Oct 1944 to 2 Jun 1945); Navy Base, Port Hueneme, CA
(6 Jul 1945 to 18 Sep 1945); Naval Training Center, San Diego (23 Sep 1945 to Apr 1946).
Reverted to inactive status: 26 May 1946. Resigned from Naval Reserve: 18 Feb 1957.
Leo P. O’Keefe, S.J.
Born: 10 Apr 1908. Entered Jesuits: 15 Aug 1929. Ordained: 17 Jun 1939. Died: 16 Nov 1991. Appointed
to the Army: 29 Jan 1944. Serial number: 0544766. To the rank of Captain: 25 Jan 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (14 Mar 1944); Randolph Field, TX (1944 to 1946). Reverted to inactive status:
22 Apr 1946.
22 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Charles J. Reardon, S.J.
Born: 2 May 1907. Entered Jesuits: 7 Sep 1927. Ordained: 17 Jun 1939. Died: 28 Jun 1991. Appointed
to the Army: 29 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0551384. To the rank of Captain: 1 May 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (8 Jun 1944); Camp Gordon, Augusta, GA (15 Jul 1944); Fort Jackson, SC
(20 Sep 1944); England, France, Holland and Germany (Oct 1944 to May 1945); 15th General Hospital,
Belgium (28 Jul 1945). Served in the United States and overseas with 1147 th Engineer Combat Group.
Reverted to inactive status: 22 Sep 1946.
Charles M. Roddy, S.J.
Born: 26 Sep 1888. Entered Jesuits: 7 May 1910. Ordained: 26 Jun 1923. Died: 11 May 1967. Appointed
to the Army: 2 Aug 1943. Serial number: 0530276. To the rank of Captain: 28 Jul 1944. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (1 Oct 1943); Fort George Meade, MD (1943); Carlisle Barracks, PA and Camp
Lee, VA (1944); hospital ship chaplain (1945). Reverted to inactive status: 18 Mar 1946.
Richard L. Rooney, S.J.
Born: 21 Oct 1903. Entered Jesuits: 15 Aug 1923. Ordained: 23 Jun 1935. Died: 2 Feb 1977. Appointed
to the Army: 13 Apr 1944. Serial number: 0549988. To the rank of Captain: 21 Apr 1945. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (30 Apr 1944); Army Air Force Base, Biggs Field, El Paso, TX. Reverted to
inactive status: 28 Feb 1946.
Daniel F. Ryan, S.J.
Born: 30 Jul 1888. Entered Jesuits: 13 Aug 1905. Ordained: 29 Jun 1920. Died: 8 Jan 1970. Appointed
to the Army: 29 May 1943. Serial number: 0523595. To the rank of Captain: 28 Jul 1944. Assignments:
Harvard Chaplain School (4 Nov 1943); Woodrow Wilson General Hospital, Staunton, VA; Indiantown
Gap Military Reservation, PA. Reverted to inactive status: 20 May 1946.
John D. St. John, S.J.
Born: 9 Feb 1908. Entered Jesuits: 30 Jul 1925. Ordained: 20 Jun 1937. Died: 9 Sep 1992. Appointed to
the Army: 6 Apr 1942. Serial number: 0447906. To the rank of Captain: 7 Dec 1942; to Major: 17 Aug
1944; to Lieutenant Colonel: 7 Jun 1946. Assignments: 324th Air Force Service Group, Orlando, FL
(22 Apr 1942 to 21 Aug 1942); 324th Air Force Service Group, Lakeland, FL (22 Aug 1942 to 26 Dec 1942);
324th Air Force Service Group, Algeria, Tunisia (Jan 1943 to Dec 1943); (continued)
23 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
John D. St. John, S.J. (continued)
324th Air Service Group, Foggia, Italy (Dec 1943 to May 1944); 304th Bombardment Wing, Cerignola, Italy
(May 1944 to Sep 1944); Headquarters, 15th Air Force, Bari, Italy (Sep 1944 to May 1945); 304th Bombardment Wing, Cerignola, Italy (May 1945 to Sep 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 7 Feb 1946. Appointed to
the Air Force: Jan 1949. Serial number: A0447906. To the rank of Colonel: 17 Dec 1956. Assignments:
Office of the Air Force Chief of Chaplains to organize and conduct missions for Air Force personnel
(5 Jan 1949 to 1 Jun 1957); Staff Chaplain, 9th Air Force, Tactical Air Command (25 Jun 1957 to 31 Dec
1959); Headquarters, 30th Air Division, Truax Field, Madison, WI (1 Jan 1960 to 1965). Awards: Bronze
Star, Air Force Commendation Medal; Air Force Commendation Ribbon.
Joseph P. Shanahan, S.J.
Born: 7 Mar 1908. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1925. Ordained: 19 Jun 1938. Commissioned as Lieutenant
(j.g.) in the Navy: 20 Jan 1944. Serial number: 349588. To Lieutenant: 1 Jul 1945. Assignments: Chaplain
School, Williamsburg, VA (28 Feb 1944 to 23 Apr 1944); Naval Air Station, San Diego (9 May 1944 to Jul
1945); 3rd Marine Air Wing (19 Jul 1945 to 22 Sep 1945); Naval Air Station #28 (22 Sep 1945 until relieved
of active duty.) Reverted to inactive status: 19 Apr 1946. Released from Naval Reserve: 15 Oct 1954.
Thomas A. Shanahan, S.J.
Born: 23 Jun 1895. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1916. Ordained: 22 Jun 1929. Died: 25 Jun 1963. Appointed
to the Army with the rank of Captain: 2 May 1942. Serial number: 0888031. To the rank of Major:
5 Jul 1943; to Lieutenant Colonel: 15 Jan 1946. Assignments: 35th A.B. Group, Charters Towers, North
Queensland, Australia (2 Mar 1942 to 2 Jun 1942); Headquarters, USA SOS SWPA, Deputy Chaplain,
Sydney and Brisbane, Australia (5 Jun 1942 to 18 Sep 1944); Headquarters, Base K, Tacloban, Leyte,
Philippines (19 Sep 1944 to 31 Dec 1944); Headquarters, Base M, San Fabian, Luzon (1 Jan 1945 to 8 Mar
1945); Letterman General and Lovell General Hospitals (30 May 1945 to 20 Sep 1945); Redistribution
Center, Fort Oglethorpe, GA (Sep 1945 to Nov 1945); Fort George Meade Separation Center, MD (Nov
1945 to Jan 1946); relief work in Philippines (Feb 1946 to Mar 1946). Reverted to inactive status: 8 May
1946. Prior to his appointment to the Army, Father Shanahan had been appointed as Red Cross Chaplain,
Manila (9 Dec 1941); and was Chaplain on the S.S. Mactan which evacuated wounded personnel from
Manila to Sydney, Australia (1 Jan 1942 to 28 Jan 1942). Award: Bronze Star.
Richard G. Shea, S.J.
Born: 28 Sep 1902. Entered Jesuits: 14 Aug 1922. Ordained: 20 Jun 1934. Died: 25 Mar 1984. Appointed
to the Army: 15 Dec 1942. Serial number: 0507901. To the rank of Captain: 20 Nov 1943 (continued)
24 | men for others
�chapter 2 | to love and serve
Richard G. Shea, S.J. (continued)
Assignments: Harvard Chaplain School (3 Jan1943); Camp Patrick Henry, Hampton Roads Port of
Embarkation, VA (1943 to Aug 1944); Infantry Replacement Center, Camp Blanding, FL (Aug 1944
to Oct 1944); with 9th Air Force in France, Belgium, Germany (Oct 1944 to Sep 1945); Shaw Air
Force Base, Sumter, SC (Oct 1945 to Dec 1945). Reverted to inactive status: 19 Feb 1946. Appointed
to the Air Force Reserve: 1 Jul 1949. Serial number: A0507901. Called to active duty: Jun 1951. Assignments: Castle Air Force Base, CA (Jun 1951 to Mar 1952); 3918th Air Base Group, RAF Station, Upper Heyford, Oxfordshire, England (Mar 1952 to Apr 1955); Lackland Air force Base, TX (May 1955 to
Jun 1956). Relieved of active duty with the rank of Major: Jun 1956.
Robert E. Sheridan, S.J.
Born: 7 Jun 1897. Entered Jesuits: 15 Aug 1915. Ordained: 20 Jun 1928. Died: 25 Dec 1978. Appointed to
the Army: 11 Mar 1942. Serial number: 0442204. To the rank of Captain: 5 Oct 1942; to Major: 9 Dec
1946. Assignments: Port of Embarkation, Charleston, SC (23 Mar 1942); from Feb 1944 to Feb 1946,
thirteen months of hospital ship duty aboard Acadia (in Atlantic) and Chateau-Thierry (in Pacific), logging
95,000 miles at sea. Reverted to inactive status: 21 May 1946. Award: Army Commendation Ribbon.
Harold V. Stockman, S.J.
Born: 3 Jun 1898. Entered Jesuits: 16 Sep 1917. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 10 Aug 1962. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 24 Aug 1943. Serial number: 316882. To Lieutenant Commander: 1 Nov 1945.
Assignments: Chaplain School, Williamsburg, VA (11 Oct 1943 to 5 Dec 1943); Navy Yard, Norfolk
(15 Dec 1943 to 21 Jun 1944); with naval units in Mediterranean Theater of Operations (24 Jun 1944 to
25 Jul 1945); Chaplain, Portsmouth Naval Prison (Sep 1945 to Jul 1947); Naval Air Station, Green Cove
Springs, FL (Aug 1947 until relieved of active duty). Reverted to inactive status and retired from Naval
Reserve: 1 Jun 1948.
Francis V. Sullivan, S.J.
Born: 10 Apr 1898. Entered Jesuits: 23 Jan 1919. Ordained: 18 Jun 1930. Died: 11 Jan 1972. Commissioned
as Lieutenant in the Navy: 13 Mar 1942. Serial number: 139079. To Lieutenant Commander: 13 Dec 1943;
to Commander: 5 Nov 1945. Assignments: Chaplain School, Fort Schuyler, NY (1 May 1942 to 12 Jun
1942); Naval Operating Base and Chaplains’ Training School, Norfolk, VA (20 Jun 1942 to 31 Jul 1942);
3rd Marines, Samoa (1 Aug 1942 to 3 Mar 1943); Dean Chaplains School, William and Mary College, VA
(28 May 1943 to 13 Aug 1944); Senior Chaplain, European Theater, London (3 Sep 1944 until relieved of
active duty). Reverted to inactive status: 14 Mar 1946. Retired from Naval Reserve: Jan 1956.
25 | men for others
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
The Medals and the Men
citations and awards
the list of citations and awards was compiled from questionnaires and the records of
the offices of chief chaplains or the various services. The Navy and Air Force records are
reasonably complete; the Army list for Jesuits is about 80% complete. Awards that have not
been verified have not been included.
I
n the following list, the citation or general
orders conferring the decoration is cited
or, if unavailable, a précis of the citation.
If neither is available, only the title of the
decoration is listed.
world war ii citations and awards: military
barry, john l.
bronze star, purple heart
boylan, bernard r.
navy and marine corps medal
brock, laurence m.
legion of merit
dolan, james j.
bronze star
dugan, john j.
bronze star,
army commendation ribbon
hennessey, thomas p.
bronze star
huss, harry l.
bronze star
lynch, daniel j.
purple heart
murphy, george m.
army commendation medal
26 | the medals and the men
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
world war ii citations and awards: military (continued)
o’callahan, joseph t.
medal of honor, purple heart
st. john, john d.
bronze star
air force commendation medal
air force commendation ribbon
shanahan, thomas a.
bronze star
sheridan, robert e.
army commendation medal
world war ii citations and awards: papal
fay, thomas p.
benemerenti –
awarded by pope pius xii
NOTE: The Commendation Medal was originally a ribbon and was first issued by the Navy and the Coast
Guard in 1943. But by 1960, the Commendation Ribbons had been authorized as full medals and were
thereafter referred to as Commendation Medals.
This information is compiled from “Jesuits as Chaplains in the Armed Forces” by Gerard F. Giblin, S.J.,
Woodstock Letters, 89, 361-491.
27 | the medals and the men
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
medal of honor
the medal of honor is awarded by the president in the name of congress to a person
who, while a member of the united states armed forces, distinguishes himself or
herself conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life or her life
above and beyond the call of duty while engaged in an action against an enemy of the
United States; while engaged in military operations involving conflict with an opposing foreign
force; or while serving with friendly foreign forces engaged in an armed conflict against an
opposing armed force in which the United States is not a belligerent party.
T
he deed performed must have been one of
personal bravery or self-sacrifice so conspicuous as to clearly distinguish the individual
above his or her comrades and must have involved
risk of life. Incontestable proof of the performance
of the service will be exacted and each recommendation for the award of this decoration will be considered on the standard of extraordinary merit.
joseph t. o’callahan, s.j.
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the
risk of life above and beyond the call of duty while
serving as chaplain on board the U.S.S. Franklin
when that vessel was attacked by enemy Japanese
aircraft during offensive operations near Kobe,
Japan, on 19 March 1945. A valiant and forceful leader, calmly braving the perilous barriers of
flames and twisted metal to aid his men and his
ship, Lieutenant Commander O’Callahan groped
his way through smoke-filled corridors to the
flight deck and into the midst of violently explod-
28 | the medals and the men
ing bombs, shells, rockets and other armament.
With the ship rocked by incessant explosions, with
debris and fragments raining down and fires raging
in increasing fury, comforting and encouraging
men of all faiths, he organized and led fire-fighting
crews into the blazing inferno on the flight deck;
he directed the jettisoning of live ammunition and
the flooding of the magazine; he manned a hose to
cool hot, armed bombs rolling dangerously on the
listing deck, continuing his efforts despite searing,
suffocating smoke which forced men to fall back
gasping and imperiled others who replaced them.
Serving with courage, fortitude and deep spiritual
strength, Lieutenant Commander O’Callahan inspired the gallant officers and men of the Franklin
to fight heroically and with profound faith in the
face of almost certain death and return their
stricken ship to port.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
purple heart
the purple heart is awarded in the name of the president of the united states to any
member of the armed forces of the united states who, while serving under competent
authority in any capacity with one of the U.S. Armed Services after April 5, 1917, has been
wounded or killed, or who has died after being wounded.
D
uring the early period of American
involvement in World War II (December
7, 1941 – September 22, 1943), the Purple
Heart was awarded both for wounds received in
action against the enemy and for meritorious
john l. barry, s.j.
(Received the Purple Heart for wounds
sustained in action 17 October 1952 near
Kumhwa, North Korea, while on service with the
th
48 Artillery.)
daniel j. lynch, s.j.
His work comforting the dying and burying the
dead in front of the Bois des Loges in October 1918
involved much night work, exhausting mentally and
physically, under fire of all kinds.
29 | the medals and the men
performance of duty. With the establishment of the
Legion of Merit, by an Act of Congress, the practice
of awarding the Purple Heart for meritorious
service was discontinued.
Chaplain Lynch on more than one occasion
appeared at dawn at Brigade Headquarters almost
in a state of collapse from an all night of arduous,
dangerous and nerve-wracking hours. He thought
not of himself, only of others, his duty to his
country and his God.
joseph t. o’callahan, s.j.
(Wounded by an explosion aboard
U.S.S. Franklin 19 March 1945.)
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
legion of merit
the legion of merit, established by act of congress 20 july 1942, is awarded to any
member of the armed forces of the united states or a friendly foreign nation who
has distinguished himself or herself by exceptionally meritorious conduct in the
performance of outstanding services and achievements. The performance must have
been such as to merit recognition of key individuals for service rendered in a clearly
exceptional manner.
laurence m. brock, s.j.
Laurence M. Brock, 0403400, Captain,
Chaplain Corps, United States Army, for exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance
of outstanding services in the South Pacific Area,
during the period of February 1942 to Septem-
ber 1943. As Chaplain of a regiment bivouacked
in an area of over fifty miles at an advanced base,
Captain Brock travelled to his men under the most
adverse conditions to carry out his own duties and
those of Special Service Officer prior to the time
that the Table of Organization provided an officer
for that duty. This presented Captain Brock with
the problem of extending his normal work to
30 | the medals and the men
include such arrangements as the operation and
upkeep of motion picture apparatus, and the
organization and direction of amateur theatricals.
The cumulative effect of his good work was clearly
evidenced by the high morale of the regiment
upon its entry into active combat. In his unceasing
efforts to carry the word of God to troops fighting in
perilous forward areas Captain Brock disdained all
hazards and expended his every effort. The altruistic, courageous quality of his superlative work
was best illustrated at Christmas time, 1942, when
he traversed from foxhole to foxhole under hostile
sniper fire to receive confessions and thus administer religious solace to men.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
bronze star medal
the bronze star medal, established by executive order 9419, 4 february 1944, is awarded
to any person who, while serving in any capacity in or with the army of the united
states after 6 december 1941, distinguished himself or herself by heroic or meritorious
achievement or service, not involving participation in aerial flight, in connection with military
operations against an armed enemy; or while engaged in military operations involving conflict
with an opposing armed force in which the United States is not a belligerent party.
John L. Barry, S.J.
Chaplain (First Lieutenant) John L. Barry,
0931664, Chaplains, United States Army, a memth
ber of Headquarters, 7 Infantry Division Artillery,
distinguished himself by meritorious achievement
on 20 October 1952. While an intense attack was
being launched against the enemy, Chaplain Barry,
against the protests of the commanding officer,
moved into the thick of the battle, administering aid, both spiritual and medical, to the friendly
casualties and encouraging the fighting men. The
integrity, the sincere devotion to God and country,
and the deep personal regard for the welfare of the
men with whom he served, made Chaplain Barry
an inspiring figure and an ennobling influence on
all with whom he came in contact. The meritorious
achievement of Chaplain Barry reflects great credit
on himself and the military service.
James J. Dolan, S.J.
James J. Dolan (Captain), 0402252, Chaplains
Corps, has been awarded the Bronze Star Medal for
meritorious service and exceptional service in connection with military operations against the enemy
31 | the medals and the men
on Saipan, Marianas Islands, during the period 21
July 1944 and 2 September 1945.
John J. Dugan, S.J.
(Awarded Bronze Star by General Order 113,
Headquarters, War Department 4 December 1945.)
Thomas P. Hennessey, S.J.
Chaplain Thomas P. Hennessey, (Captain)
0530788, Corps of Chaplains, has been awarded
the Bronze Star Medal for distinctive heroism in
connection with military operations against the
enemy during the period 22 to 23 March 1945 near
Geinsheim, Germany. When assault troops crossed
the Rhine River, Chaplain Hennessey volunteered
to accompany the attached collective company.
An hour and a half enemy artillery barrage was
launched into the area occupied by the collective
station, and Chaplain Hennessey exposed himself
constantly to supervise the removal of wounded men.
His outstanding devotion to his self-appointed mission was a great inspiration to the wounded and
the men working with him and reflects great credit
upon himself and the military service.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
bronze star medal (continued)
Harry L. Huss, S.J.
Major (Chaplain) Harry L. Huss (then
Captain), (Army Serial No. 0509085), Army
of the United States, for meritorious service in
connection with military operations, as District
Chaplain, Western District, United Kingdom Base;
Deputy Chaplain, Channel Base Section; Deputy
Chaplain, Chanor Base Section, Communications
Zone, European Theater of Operations, from 16
September 1944 to 8 May 1945. Despite the ever increasing difficulties with regard to the readjustment
of Chaplains, Chaplain Huss executed quick and
sure judgment in the redeployment program. His
zeal and energy in covering small and isolated units
who were without a Chaplain and his meticulous
attention, guaranteeing burial services of American
personnel, gained the respect and high regard of all
with whom he came in contact. His understanding
of human nature enabled him to solve many delicate problems requiring a knowledge of the civilian
statutes, army regulations and individual’s emotions. The outstanding services rendered by Chaplain Huss reflect great credit upon himself and the
Armed Forces of the United States. Entered military
service from Massachusetts.
John D. St. John, S.J.
Lieutenant Colonel John D. St. John performed
meritorious service from April 1944 to May 1945 as
Chaplain, 304th Bomb Wing, and later as Assistant
Chaplain, 15th Air Force. He exhibited a high degree
of initiative, tact and forethought to insure spiritual
and moral facilities for the entire personnel under
his ministration. He displayed exceptional executive ability and resourcefulness in reorganizing and
32 | the medals and the men
putting into effect an entirely new Chaplain’s policy
th
for the 15 Air Force, whereby all members of his
faith received guidance and consolence despite a
shortage of Chaplains.
Thomas A. Shanahan, S.J.
Chaplain (Major) Thomas A. Shanahan
(0888031), Chaplain Corps, United States Army.
For meritorious achievement in Luzon, Philippine
Islands, from 13 January 1945 to 15 March 1945,
in connection with military operations against the
enemy. Because of his former residence in the
Philippines and his intimate knowledge of their
people, Chaplain Shanahan voluntarily accompanied
the advance echelon of a major base headquarters to
Luzon. Immediately on arrival he organized relief
and rehabilitation measures for the local populace
and ministered to battle casualties in forward-area
hospitals with complete disregard for his own
safety. Among the first Americans to enter Manila,
he immediately began obtaining food, shelter, and
medical care for upward of 10,000 sick, injured,
and homeless refugees, and for 70 nuns suffering
from illness and malnutrition. While the enemy was
shelling the University of Santo Tomas, he stood by
continually to administer clerical rites to the wounded and dying and devoted himself unstintingly to
the aid of civilian internees. His efforts materially
assisted in the organization of Santo Tomas for conversion into a major hospital unit. By his intrepid
courage, inspiring spiritual guidance, and substantial material aid to a needy and suffering people,
Chaplain Shanahan upheld the highest standards of
humanity and the priesthood and rendered substantial aid in the proper care of the sick and wounded.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
navy and marine corps medal
The Navy and Marine Corps Medal, established by an Act of Congress on August 7, 1942,
may be awarded to service members who, while serving in any capacity with the Navy or
Marine Corps, distinguish themselves by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy.
For acts of lifesaving, or attempted lifesaving, it is required that the action be performed at the
risk of one’s own life.
Bernard R. Boylan, S.J.
For heroic conduct during rescue operations in
Finschhafen Harbor on August 23, 1944. With the
gasoline laden S.S. John C. Calhoun enveloped in
flames following an explosion in the hold, Lieutenant Boylan leaped from an adjoining vessel to
go to the aid of several casualties on the stricken
33 | the medals and the men
ship. Aware of the imminent danger of additional
explosions, he assisted in removing men to safety;
searched the debris for other wounded; and refused
to leave the scene until all casualties had been cared
for. His initiative and courage throughout reflect
the highest credit upon Lieutenant Boylan and the
United States Naval Service.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
air force commendation medal
The Air Force Commendation Medal was authorized by the Secretary of the Air
Force on March 28, 1958, for award to members of the Armed Forces of the United
States who, while serving in any capacity with the Air force after March 24, 1958,
shall have distinguished themselves by meritorious achievement and service. The degree of
merit must be distinctive, though it need not be unique. Acts of courage which do not involve
the voluntary risk of life required for the Soldier’s Medal may be considered for the Air Force
Commendation Medal.
John D. St. John, S.J.
John D. St. John, S.J.
Chaplain (Colonel) John D. St. John
distinguished himself for meritorious service
as Staff Chaplain, Ninth Air Force, Shaw Air
Force Base, South Carolina, from 25 June 1957
to 1 November 1959. During this period of unprecedented operational activity and frequent overseas
deployment by units of this command, Chaplain
St. John’s dynamic personality and tireless efforts
were an inspiration to the commanders and unit
chaplains charged with maintaining the morale
and spiritual welfare of Ninth Air Force personnel.
In addition Headquarters United States Air Force
has accepted a plan conceived by Chaplain St. John
for sending selected members of the USAF Chaplain Corps to civilian institutions of learning to receive specialized training. Designed to enhance the
professional qualifications and prestige of Air Force
chaplains, this program will yield far reaching benefits throughout the Air Force. Chaplain St. John’s
initiative, devotion to duty, and unflagging concern
for the welfare of others have reflected great credit
upon himself, Ninth Air Force and Tactical
Air Command.
Chaplain (Lieutenant Colonel) John D. St. John
distinguished himself by meritorious service as a
member of the USAF Catholic preaching mission
team, Office of the Chief of Air Force Chaplains,
Headquarters USAF, during the period 12 May 1949
to 19 July 1955. During this period Chaplain St. John
traveled 238,082 air miles, which included 1228:58
hours of flying time, to conduct Catholic preaching missions within every oversea Air Force Command. In carrying out these preaching missions,
Chaplain St. John and his co-missioner conducted
218 missions, 1,203 evening services, 2,624 Masses
and administered 64,462 Holy Communions. It is
estimated that 387,784 Air Force personnel and their
dependents of the Catholic faith took part in these
mission activities. Through his efforts as a member
of the Catholic preaching mission team, Chaplain St.
John has brought spiritual benefits and enlightenment to personnel of the Catholic faith and in turn
advanced the program of the Air Force Chaplains
Six-Point Program in developing the spiritual well
being and morale of Air Force Catholic personnel.
In accomplishing his duties in such an outstanding
manner, Chaplain St. John has reflected great credit
upon himself and the United States Air Force.
34 | the medals and the men
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
army commendation medal
The Army Commendation Medal (ARCOM), established by War Department Circular 377,
18 December 1945, is awarded to any member of the Armed Forces of the United States
who, while serving in any capacity in the Army after 6 December 1941, distinguishes
himself or herself by heroism, meritorious achievement or meritorious service.
Award may be made to a member of the Armed Forces of a friendly foreign nation who,
after 1 June 1962, distinguishes himself or herself by an act of heroism, extraordinary
achievement, or meritorious service which has been of mutual benefit to a friendly nation and
the United States. Awards of the Army Commendation Ribbon and of the Commendation
Ribbon with Metal Pendant were redesignated by DA General Orders 10, 31 March 1960, as
awards of the Army Commendation Medal, without amendment of orders previously issued.
George M. Murphy, S.J.
For meritorious and outstanding service
as Chaplain at Valley Forge General Hospital,
Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, from December 1944
to 1 February 1946. Chaplain Murphy filled the
spiritual needs of the patients and no call on his
services went unanswered. Above and beyond his
normal duties he has won the friendship of patients
and staff alike by his sympathetic understanding of
their problems and his congenial personality which
was reflected in his daily tasks. Chaplain Murphy
exemplified the finest attributes of his profession
35 | the medals and the men
and his contribution to the service reflects
great credit upon the Chaplain Corps and the
Military Service.
Robert E. Sheridan, S.J.
His untiring efforts, cheerfulness, pleasing
personality and complete devotion to duty
displayed from 10 May 1945 to 21 February 1946
gave comfort and confidence to patients aboard
the Hospital Ship Chateau Thierry. A high state of
morale was also achieved throughout the voyage.
�chapter 3 | to love and serve
benemerenti medal
The Benemerenti Medal, instituted by Pope Gregory XVI in 1832, is conferred on those who
have exhibited long and exceptional service to the Catholic Church, their families and community. The word benemerenti means “to a well deserving person.”
Thomas P. Fay, S.J.
PIUS XII PONTIFEX MAXIMUS
Numisma Decernere Ac Dilargiri
Dignatus Est
rev. p. thomas p. fay, s.j.
Virtutis Laude Benemerenti
Eidem Facultatem Faciens Seipsum Hoc
Ornamento Decorandi
Ex Aedibus Vaticanis,
Die 30 Aprilis 1947
Benemerenti medal in the collection of the
Thomas P. Fay, S.J., Archives of the Society
of Jesus of New England, College of the Holy
Cross, Worcester, MA
36 | the medals and the men
While serving as Chaplain with the Armed
Forces of the United States of America in the
European Theatre during two years, from July 1944
to July 1946, and particularly during the period
from May 1945 to July 1946, as Chaplain attached
to Western Base Headquarters, France, Thomas
Patrick Fay, of the Society of Jesus, rendered signal
service over and above the line of duty in administration of duties, not only to the American personnel in his charge, but also to the needy population
of the war torn countries and in particular to the
numerous clergy of all faiths among the prisoners
of war held by the victorious American armies in
various encampments in France and Belgium.
Father Fay arranged and provided for spiritual
retreats for Catholic priests and for Lutheran
ministers among the prisoners of war and showed a
devotion to his fellow men which richly deserves the
recognition of the award of the medal “Benemerenti”.
Father Fay’s services in this regard were unique
and invaluable: the more so as they are evidence of
a charity that is truly Christian and transcending
motives merely human.
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
This selection of articles offers an inside look at Jesuit Chaplains. They offer accounts
of their personal experiences, the spiritual dimensions of their service, the harsh realities of war, their admiration for the young men to whom they ministered and with
whom they suffered imprisonment. Also included are sample expressions of appreciation of
extraordinary courage and singular commitment of individual Jesuits that merited for so many
well deserved citations and awards.
M
any of these articles are reprinted from
The Woodstock Letters, a publication
of the Society of Jesus from 1872 until
1969. The Woodstock Letters include historical
articles, updates on work being done by the Jesuits,
eyewitness accounts of historic events, book reviews, obituaries, and various others items of interest to the Society. They provide an invaluable record
of the work done by American Jesuits throughout
th
th
the 19 and 20 centuries. They are now fully
digitized and available online at the St. Louis
University Libraries Digital Collection,
http://cdm.slu.edu/cdm/landingpage/collection/
woodstock
37 | in their own words
Two autobiographical publications, too
lengthy to reprint here, may be of interest.
n “Life Under the Japs: From Bataan’s Fall to
Miraculous Rescue at Cabanatuan by Yanks”
by Major John J. Dugan, S.J. as told to Willard
de Lue and published in installments in the
Boston Globe newspaper from Sunday, April 1
to Saturday, April 21, 1945. Based on a series
of interviews, the full story of Fr. Dugan’s
34 months as a prisoner of war under
the Japanese.
n I Was Chaplain on the “Franklin” by Joseph T.
O’Callahan, S.J. (New York: Macmillan Company, 1956). Fr. O’Callahan recounts his experience
as a Navy Chaplain on the USS “Franklin”, an
aircraft carrier bombed by Japanese aircraft.
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
fighting in france
Father Daniel Lynch was the only New England Province Jesuit to serve in both World
War I and World War II. For his outstanding service in World War I he was awarded the
Purple Heart as well as the Croix de Guerre from the French government for heroic
service during several successive hours under heavy fire. This letter about some of
his experiences in World War I is included here since it captures the spirit that characterized
his later service in World War II.
N
ow that the censorship has relaxed a little,
I shall give you a brief account of my
wanderings over France.
I left New York on May second, on the British India steamer Leistershire. The fleet of fifteen
troop ships were all British, carrying about thirty
thousand troops, with the San Diego (U.S. cruiser)
as escort. After fifteen days at sea we sighted the
north of Ireland and entered Liverpool by the north.
One submarine attack on the way. From Liverpool
we proceeded by train to London where we were
informed that the channel was closed to traffic for
a week. I rested the day after our arrival in London,
visiting Westminster Abbey, etc., and intended to
call at Mill Hill the following day. Orders came for
me that night to proceed immediately to Southampton, where I would find a small fast steamer to take
me to Havre. Of course it was rough, and to see the
destroyers racing along on all sides of us made it a
very interesting evening. From Havre I was ordered
to Paris, where I ran into an air raid the first night.
There was an air raid starting when I left London.
After seeing the sights about Paris for a few days I
started for Blois. From Blois I was shipped to Tours
to join my negroes. As there was no Catholic chaplain in that city, I was called to Headquarters, given
38 | in their own words
the second Aviation Field to look after, besides St.
Pierre des Corps, the three Barracks and American
Hospital. This job I held down till a K. C. chaplain
arrived in about a month and took part of the work.
It was not so hard, as I had lots of transportation
either from Headquarters or Aviation Field. All I
had to do was to call up either garage and I had a
Cadillac at my door in ten minutes. You can imagine my disappointment when I was disturbed
from this gentleman’s mode of warfare by orders
th
to join the 310 Infantry, then in the British area,
at once. Fifty pounds was all I was allowed to carry.
There was some hustling for a day or so, getting my
accounts straightened out, and then after leaving
almost everything I had at Our Fathers’ House in
Tours, I started for Calais via Paris. When I landed
in Paris one of those shells from that long distance
gun dropped, not too far away from the station. It
made quite a mess in those crowded streets, but
as I was expecting to see lots of such excitement
in a few days, I did not delay long. The shells were
then dropping on Paris every twenty minutes. From
Calais I went to Bologne to see another big air raid,
and finally found my regiment near St. Pol. From
St. Pol the regiment moved up back of Arras, a
rather quiet front, except for night air raids. Finally
I got orders to prepare (we thought for Italy). After
two days and two nights in freight cars we landed
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
near the Swiss border. After a week’s rest the troops
moved up back of the St. Mihiel Sector and were
stationed behind the Marines near Limey. Of course
it rained all the time. The roads were in a frightful
condition. All one could see from the light of the
cannons was wrecked transports, dead horses and
men falling from exhaustion. We had all kinds of
surprises, wondering whether bridges were going
to blow up before, or after, or while we were crossing them. We had not really got into action. The
whole sky in front of us was just ablaze with rockets
and flares and all kinds of light. We didn’t know
then where that was, but we knew things would be
more plain in a few hours, as we were going right
through that line. The Marines kept ahead of us till
we reached Thiaucourt, where we relieved them
under the big guns of Metz. A few kilos beyond Thiaucourt the Germans made a stand. We lost about
eight hundred men. Here I buried about one hundred and thirty of our boys in sight of the German
lines and under continuous shell fire. I am about to
write to the good mother of one. She knew from his
letters home he was very close to me, serving my
Mass every morning when possible. I taught him
at St. Peter’s (Jersey City) and buried him under
terrific shell fire. After three and one half weeks of
such excitement the regiment was pulled back for a
th
rest, being relieved by the 256 Regiment. The day
before we retired I said Mass in the woods because
it was pouring rain, and German aeroplanes could
not see us. The Germans shelled us so madly when
they saw us retiring that it was impossible to get my
chaplain’s kit, and maybe it is there yet or somewhere in Germany.
I had taken advantage of a very cloudy day-in
fact it was raining-to say Mass for one of our battalions and two detachments of machine gunners
in the woods north of Thiaucourt. On account of
numerous German planes, which were quick to
signal for heavy shelling on any spot when they
observed men gathered together, we were not able
to say Mass, except in crowded dugouts, for over
two weeks.
After Mass and Communion for over two
hundred, I hurried up the line to bring Communion to the men on duty. When I returned the next
day, our men had been shelled out of the woods and
left my chaplain’s kit behind. I inquired everywhere
of our men and of the other division who occupied
the woods some days later, but no trace of the kit
could be found. I was called to the woods at about
twelve o’clock the night of the shelling to attend to
the dead and the wounded, but in confusion forgot
to look up my kit. We moved that week to the
Argonne, and I have never heard anything of
my chaplain’s outfit since. Division Headquarters
then secured another kit for me from the Knights
of Columbus.
Well, we went back for a good rest and to get
replacements to fill up our ranks. This good long
rest lasted just one night in the rain when we started for the Argonne Forests. Here we went through,
for over a month, some of the most desperate fighting of the whole war. We had the celebrated Prussian Guards against us, and they were there to die,
all with machine guns. When our men would drive
them out of their machine gun nests, they would
come around our right flank and set themselves
in our rear. This fact also made the very front line
as safe as anywhere. How I ever came out alive is
due to the prayers of my dear ones and friends. I
certainly never expected to see the U. S. A. again.
There was nothing to do, but wait to see just what
shell or bomb or machine gun was to have the
honor of doing the job.
Finally on the last big drive we broke this line,
and the retreat started that ended in the armistice.
10 Daniel J. Lynch, “Letter from France,” Woodstock Letters, 48, 285-288.
39 | in their own words
Daniel J. Lynch, S.J.
Lieut. Chaplain10
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
the bravest man i ever knew
today is three days before the 14th anniversary of pearl harbor, which reminds me that
some day soon i’ll be staring at a movie screen and reliving another naval tragedy – the
most unforgettable day of my life. There, in the midst of a seaborne holocaust, I will see a
wide grin topped by a helmet with a white cross. That will be someone acting like Joseph Timothy O’Callahan, and he may do it well, but he’ll never match the original.
F
ather O’Callahan was the bravest man I ever
knew. A Jesuit and an instructor in mathematics and philosophy, he was a Lieutenant Commander and Senior Chaplain on the USS
Franklin, a big aircraft carrier that I was commanding on March 19, 1945, about 50 Miles off the coast
of Japan.
Not long after dawn that morning, while we
were launching aircraft, the Franklin was hit with
two heavy bombs by a skilled Japanese dive bomber.
Both bombs penetrated to the hangar deck, killing
everyone inside. The planes on the flight deck were
bounced into the air and came down in a pile, their
churning propellers chopping into gas tanks and
spilling about 17,000 gallons of fuel. The gasoline
vapor went off with a tremendous blast and we were
on fire from stem to stern on three decks.
For four interminable hours blast after blast
rocked the ship. All interior communications were
destroyed, fire mains were cut, all power was lost.
From my position on the bridge, it seemed
that wherever I looked I could see a familiar battle
helmet with a white cross painted on it. My navigator, Commander Stephen Jurika, didn’t overstate
the case when he wrote in his log: “O’Callahan was
everywhere, leading men, officiating at last rites,
manning hoses and doing the work of 10 men.”
40 | in their own words
Thousand-pound bombs kept going off like
firecrackers at a festival. The men would scurry
away, only to meet the padre charging in after more
of the wounded. Time and again they followed him.
There are twin turrets fore and aft of the
Franklin’s bridge – ammunition-handling rooms for
five-inch anti-aircraft guns. In mid-morning the aft
one blew up in the worst blast yet.
I looked at the forward turret. Visible heat
fumes were coming out of the top hatch, indicating
it might be next to blow. I called to a group of men
on deck to take a hose inside and cool it down. They
didn’t understand but O’Callahan did. He recruited
two other officers and the three of them went down
into that oven-hot hole with a small emergency
hose, knowing that it might blow sky-high
any instant.
A few minutes later O’Callahan’s smoke-grimed
face grinned up at me from the hatch as he made
the OK sign with his fingers. Then he and the other
two officers passed out the ammo, still blistering
hot, to a waiting line of men who tossed it overboard. I breathed a sigh of relief. If that turret had
gone like the other one, the ship probably would
have been abandoned and lost.
I recommended Chaplain O’Callahan for
the Congressional Medal of Honor, and it was
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
approved. The President himself presented the
medal, the only similar award to a chaplain since
the Navy’s Medal of Honor was created in 1861.
I am not a Catholic. I have been asked why
I recommended the Congressional Medal for
O’Callahan and only Navy Crosses for the two officers who accompanied him into the jaws of death.
To a sea-going professional the answer is obvious.
The other two men were line officers. It was not
“above and beyond the call of duty” for them to risk
their lives to save the ship. But it was no part of the
chaplain’s duty to help carry that hose into a dark,
hot and explosive turret. He just went.
In the afternoon another Jap plane sprayed us
with bullets. The padre, on deck, didn’t even look
up. “Why didn’t you duck? I shouted. He grinned
and yelled back: “God won’t let me go until He’s
ready.” Maybe that explained everything.
We got a tow late in the day and managed to
outlive the night. By morning we had part of our
power again and managed to limp back to Pearl
Harbor, the worst-damaged Navy ship ever to reach
port. With 432 dead and more than 1,000 wounded,
ours was the greatest casualty list in Navy history.
All the way back Chaplain O’Callahan was the
life of the party. He helped organize a band with
dish pans and tubs and he wrote parodies of
familiar songs to keep the boys in humor. The
Jewish lads aboard, who had no chaplain of their
own faith, got tired of hearing the Irish boast about
their padre.
“He’s our padre, too,” one of them declared.
“To us he’s Rabbi Joe, you jerks.” The story
got around. Years later, I received a note from
O’Callahan signed, “Yours in Christ, Rabbi Joe.”
Now, a decade after the disaster, Columbia
Studios in Hollywood is working on a film, Battle
Stations, based on the Franklin’s travail and on the
heroism of Chaplain O’Callahan, who’ll have a
fictitious name in the movie.
He’s back at Holy Cross College in Worcester,
Massachusetts, where he taught before the war.
Three years of general combat service on carriers
didn’t help his health any. I hear he has suffered a
stroke and is now a semi-invalid although he hopes
to teach again soon. His spirits are still high, I’m
told. They would be. I pray God isn’t ready to let
him go for a long time to come.
Rear Admiral Leslie E. Gehres,
USN (Ret.)11
11 Leslie E. Gehres, “…The Bravest Man I ever Knew,” The American Weekly. (December 1955).
41 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
the american spirit
i can tell the whole story of my comrades during these past three years in a few
simple words. Those words are these – they proved themselves real Americans; Americans
with honesty, courage, Godliness and fine common sense; Americans who never faltered
and who may have feared, but were too proud to admit it. Many of them found God in death;
others found their God with me in the simple service we were allowed to hold in our rude
little prison chapel.
Y
es, we lived a barbaric, cruel and often bestial
existence. But we lived a life which bound each
unto the other and we shared the pain and suffering of imprisonment under our ruthless Japanese
captors with the same community feeling with which
we are now sharing our freedom under the Army officers and men who are almost too kind to be real.
I was one of those few fortunate men who missed
the Death March – I was ill, too ill to walk, and even
the Japanese apparently feared to infringe greatly at
that time on the Church.
But everywhere around me I saw what they did to
our men. First they confiscated everything we had –
our few precious remaining valuables and keepsakes,
what little food we had saved aside, and, yes, even
our medicines.
Not then, nor weeks later, nor months later, did
they ever give us that medicine we needed so badly for
our wounded and our dying.
They did everything they could to starve us, but
they forgot one thing – the American spirit. Our boys
had that from the start to the finish and they absolutely refused to let the Japanese crush that spirit.
Deliberately, in the first days, they did all they
could to confuse us. There were frequent moves,
disquieting reports which they circulated of what our
42 | in their own words
leaders were doing, propaganda about how America
was about to surrender.
It achieved them no good except to create an even
deeper distrust and dislike.
Our death toll at first was staggering. In the early
days at Camp Cabanatuan, second only to the terrible
scenes at Camp O’Donnell for savage administration,
our soldiers were dying at the rate of fifty a day.
Then, in late November of 1942, we were given
our first Red Cross parcels – parcels with food, medicine, cigarettes and even some reading matter which
the enemy troops let pass.
Nothing was received in all the time we were
imprisoned that did so much to lift our morale, to increase our confidence and to cut our death rate. That
medicine meant the difference between life and death
for many scores of our men.
All the officers, chaplains and doctors had to do
manual labor in the fields every day, working from
dawn to dusk.
Our jobs ranged from cleaning latrines to farming and wood chopping. And those who failed to meet
the schedule the Japanese had set were beaten and
sometimes executed.
I’ve seen more than one American beaten to death
because he lacked both the strength and the will to
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
keep up the back-breaking physical labors our captors demanded. Certain memorable highlights stand
out in those three years we were in captivity, but not
many. In time, often in a very short time, the sheer
weight of living becomes so heavy you strive to let
each day pass with as little notice as possible,
except for a thankful prayer that you are still alive.
I could tell of tens and tens of thousands of terrible things we saw and heard, of little events which
we magnified so much at the time, but which seem so
small to us now, of more of that same type of camaraderie I mentioned before.
But fortunately, while the hardships of those years
will always remain, somewhere deep within us, it’s
the brighter things we like to remember.
For example, the wonderful kindness of all the
Filipinos who willingly sacrificed their lives and freedom to bring us gifts of food or medicine.
I cannot find words to praise too highly their
unselfishness, their loyalty and their friendship for
us when we were representatives of what seemed to
everyone but them and us, a great lost cause.
I can give the time right down to the minute
when our captors knew that our cause was not a lost
one. It was 10:30 a.m. on Sept. 21 of last year. We
were working in the fields when that hope flew past
high above us – in the form of at least 150 carrierbased planes.
We should have been beaten to death had we
showed the least outward signs of happiness, but you
can imagine what joyfulness seethed within.
That moment, I think, we all knew better than
ever before that the Americans were on the way back
to us for sure.
It was an unforgettable day in all our lives.
I like to recall Christmas Eve of 1942, also – an
evening which will live in my mind as one of the great
experiences of all my imprisonment.
We secured permission from the prison authorities to hold Christmas services in the fields near
Cabanatuan. All the churches and all denominations
were represented in that picturesque setting and
6,000 American soldiers came to that single service
of belief.
I am sure God looked down on us that night and
today I am equally sure that He answered our prayers.
Of course, Tuesday night, Jan. 30, was our night
of redemption and there’ll never be another quite like
it for any of us.
If all Americans are pouring into this war the
same efforts those 120 Rangers gave, individually and
collectively, to rescue us from almost certain death,
then I know why we are winning this war.
They did an absolutely herculean task with truly
beautiful teamwork.
You just can’t put into words what your heart feels
when freedom – the last thing you have learned to
expect after three years of prison – is suddenly yours.
What perhaps made it most realistic to me was
that two friends – Lieut. John Murphy of Springfield,
Mass., and Lieutenant O’Connell of Boston – were
among the first to recognize me and tell me it was not
a dream, but reality.
Then I knew that even though there was a long
march ahead of us, home lay at the end of the road.
Our Government cannot reward too highly
Colonel Mucci and his Rangers for what they did.
I want to say once again that the morale of
our men the night we left Cabanatuan was the
s
� ame strong, unflinching morale they’d showed
throughout, and I want to say again how proud they
make me feel to be an American.
How do I feel about this new freedom? It’s like
walking in a new and wonderful world.
12 John J. Dugan, “Cabanatuan Prison Camp,” Woodstock Letters, 74, 154-157.
43 | in their own words
Captain John J. Dugan, S.J.,
U. S. Army Chaplain12
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
journey to morocco
sunday, october 25, 1942 –feast of christ the king. 0530 – General quarters. Mass on boat
deck aft at 0630, half an hour before sunrise. The altar is set against the shield of the #16 and
#18mm AA guns, with crews manning them. Portside aft of boat deck, as I turn around to start
the Mass, the full moon is setting in the west, a bit pale after its long trip, looking as though it
needed a rest. Stray clouds drift along slowly, keeping company with the moon to make sure that
she will not be lonely. They are just a handful who apparently detached themselves from their
brothers and sisters and went on their own. The others have gone to parts unknown.
T
he winds are blowing a bit but nothing of
consequence to disturb me during the Mass.
Men, hundreds of them, stand in the three
he visited my room. He told me their job is to cut
the net silently for passage up of a destroyer;
they have rubber boats with paddles on board. Hope
to take charge of the net tenders without resorting
to bloodshed.
Why did he sign up for this volunteer work?
“I told my wife that I would give everything I’ve got;
this was a chance to give. Will be doing our bit to
bring the war to a close in a hurry.
I’d hate to think that my two little girls would
have to live in a world ruled by Hitler and his gang.
That’s why I signed up.”
Calmly he spoke of his ambitions and ideals,
the long preparations made for this raid, how he
used to read about such things in books as a boy,
without ever dreaming that he would take part in
one some day.
monday, october 26, 1942.
Today, our fourth day at sea, is fairly rough for
landlubbers. Yet, Mr. Kreutzer, 2nd Division Officer,
asserts that this amounts to nothing. He was crossing the Pacific once, when his freighter tried to
climb a wall of water three times and slid back three
times. Yet it is rough enough for us strangers to
44 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
the sea. Last night in my bunk, I smacked my head
against the portside bulkhead as the ship rolled
way over.
Out on deck after celebrating Mass with a dozen
men receiving Holy Communion, as far as the eye
can see, white horses are on the rampage. One of
the ships behind is really pitching. Her keel is visible ten feet below the waterline as she rises up on
the huge waves.
1200 – A new convoy of four ships join us,
the battlewagon Massachusetts, two heavy cruisers, and a tanker. They flank our starboard side of
the convoy, sliding along slowly, their horsepower
cut down to keep company with us fellows who are
making only 15 knots.
Lieut. Robbins of the Army stops me on the
way out from the wardroom. Wonders if it would
be possible for me to mail a message to his wife
after his outfit leaves the ship. “Just in case I am
ploughed under,” he says, “I would like her to have
a last word, from me.” He speaks quietly of his little
girl four months old whom he hopes that he will
see again. He will write a letter to her also. But his
problem, “What if I write, yet nothing happens and
I manage to be one of the survivors of the initial
attack?” He remarks that he will wrestle with the
problem for a while, then let me know his decision.
He is a young fellow, well-educated, who speaks in
soft tones; yet through those tones runs the quiet
determination that must make him a good officer
for his men. I don’t like to think of him lying, a
crumpled piece of humanity, on the French Morocco shore. He, like all the others aboard our ship,
has so much to live for. May God bring them back
safely to their own some day.
2000 – I go looking for Chaplain Tepper, a
Jewish Rabbi, to obtain one of the harmonicas that
he brought aboard. One of his soldiers wants to
make the night loud with music. Before leaving he
presented me with one of the pocketknives that
45 | in their own words
will be given as tokens of friendship to the native
Moroccans. Brightly colored blankets and cloth are
also among the goodwill offerings that make up a
part of our strange cargo.
2200 – I go to the chart room directly behind
the bridge and discover what our course has been.
First we sailed directly south until we were north
of Bermuda, east of Charleston, SC, then we sailed
directly east, then north, then east again until at
this hour we are about 800 miles directly east of
Baltimore. We delayed to allow the convoys departing after us an opportunity to catch up.
2230 – Discussion in the passageway with
Lieut. Gilchrist and Dr. Walker. They tell me this
will be the largest number of ships ever to sail
together in history. We have now picked up three
subs that are riding straight ahead of us on the
surface. When we start landing operations they
will help to form part of the protecting screen
with orders to shoot anything in sight that heaves.
Also learn from them that the password is
“Bordeaux,” for our friends ashore. They speak the
word, then show the inside of their hats on which
the same word must be written. Practically all of
our fifth column groundwork in Northern Africa
has been done by Free French sympathizers.
One hour before “H” hour all the governors
of Northern Africa with the exception of Spanish
Morocco will be handed a letter informing them
of the turn of events. They are expected to take
the correct decision.
tuesday, october 27, 1942 – 5th day at sea.
Mass at end of General Quarters as usual in
the library.
0730 – At breakfast we learn that the new
convoy has arrived. Promptly we stow the rest
of the toast down the hatch, then make for the
flying bridge. Then a sight! As far as the eye can
see, ships of all sorts, shapes and sizes. Aircraft
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
“� hat if I write, yet nothing happens and I manage to be one of the survivors of
W
the initial attack?” He remarks that he will wrestle with the problem for a while,
then let me know his decision. He is a young fellow, well-educated, who speaks in
soft tones; yet through those tones runs the quiet determination that must make
him a good officer for his men.
carriers, battlewagons – three more of them; 25
more transports, innumerable destroyers and SPs,
heavy cruisers, all rolling in the heavy sea. It is an
impressive, awe-inspiring sight, one that never does
tire the eyes. Suddenly, the formations are shifting.
We slacken our speed, they cross our bow at a slight
angle; we pick up speed and move out to their portside. Our two middle lanes of ships move into the
middle of their lineup and our starboard line shoots
far out to form the starboard column of the entire
convoy. Again, the sight is most impressive. As
far as the eye can see, in every direction, ships are
ploughing ahead while our watchdogs now steam
alongside of us; then turn back. Then they shoot in
between us to nail any sub foolish enough to try to
do damage within the columns.
0815 – Quarters Commander Irwin informs
us that we must all be inoculated against typhus
now for those germs have no respect for gold braid.
He tells us that November 7 is the “H” day; that
in this convoy he counted 49 ships and then gave up.
“Business is meant on this trip and we must do our
part; we will do it, so let no officer consider it beneath
his dignity to grab a line that needs attention when
we are engaged in the unloading operations.”
To the soldiers a letter from General George
Patton is read in which the reasons for this expedition are outlined. At the close of the letter he writes:
“The eyes of the world are watching you, the heart of
America beats for you, God’s blessing is with you.”
friday, october 30, 1942 – 8 day at sea.
th
Today a fairly smooth sea running after the
46 | in their own words
heavy weather of the last two days. Taking advantage of the change, three planes from the four carriers astern of us put off and go long range scouting
overhead. Before long their reports come back to
our ship indirectly – four German submarines 25
miles directly ahead. Immediately, we strike off to
starboard on a new course to avoid those who would
at least try to detain us, if not permanently detach
us and as many as possible from our convoy.
1030 – I continue instructions in the faith with
Washington Mess Attendant. My question is “Who
is God?” He answers: “God is a being who is infinitely perfect,” and I ask him: “What do you mean
by infinitely perfect?” And he replies” “Nothing
no better.”
The one carrier that has been with us since the
second day of the trip has her flattop jammed with
Army planes. They will land after the capture of the
airport at Port Lyautey before they start winging
their way east to battle the German Luftwaffe.
Spend most of this day laying the keel for Sunday’s sermon when the men will be at Mass probably
for the last time for “H” hour is 2400, midnight Saturday. It is hoped that all good Frenchmen and native
Moroccans will be sleeping the sleep of the just.
Before retiring I step out on the flying bridge. A
destroyer is only 50 yards off our port beam, hugging
close to keep off those four subs sighted earlier.
saturday, october 31, 1942 – 9th day at sea.
I go topside after breakfast. Far off on the horizon the tankers are feeding their black gold to the
cruisers and destroyers. We have slowed down to
�Sunday, November 1, 1942 – Feast of All
Saints and 23rd Sunday after Pentecost.
0650 – Mass at the end of General Quarters;
about 350 in attendance, 125 Communions, a most
edifying sight. Very windy. God is pleased with
our primitive surroundings. Overhead is the blue
canopy of the sky. We have no walls broken by
stained glass windows, just sterns and bows; we
boast no marble inlaid floor, just a wooden deck; no
fluted columns soaring aloft and carrying on their
shoulders tons of masonry and steel; only a strong
king post adorned with cables and pulleys and lines
that are whistling in the wind.
0900 – General Service. About 200 there,
including Major Dilley. I speak of Jesus Christ and
loyalty to Him, the need for a man to examine the
foundations of his life at this crucial time.
0330 – In the afternoon, Benediction on the
boat deck aft; the first with my Benediction kit.
Rosary; full-throated response by Catholic men
most inspiring. Altar is placed against the side
of one of the invasion boats. To the left is an AA
station; men manning it over the side. Starboard
are ships of our convoy, all steaming south away
from the western sun that is slanting its rays on us.
Three hymns: Mother Dear, Oh Pray for Me; Holy
God We Praise Thy Name; Tantum Ergo. Unforgettable – men remark it later!
Jack Bennett, Notre Dame boy, 15006 Fenway
Avenue, Lakewood, Ohio serves my Mass. He is
one of the soldiers aboard ship. He says that he gets
more of a thrill out of serving my Mass on the boat
deck aft, flush against the side of an invasion boat
or up against an AA gun mount shield than he did
the times he served in Cathedrals.
friday, november 6, 1942.
Ship vibrates violently; four depth charges
dropped by destroyer ahead of us. Later tremendous
oil slick floats by our starboard side.
47 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
“Wallace Beery” Johnson, member of Naval
Commando Net Party, weight 225, infectious
smile, gentle as a kitten, pounds out a good tune
on the piano, his favorite – Indian Love Call by
Victor Herbert.
saturday, november 7, 1942.
Mass at dawn; about 50 received. Our planes are
flying in formation over us. THE DAY! Men give
me letters to mail “just in case they are killed;”
give me money to hold for them or to send home.
0900 – Soldier on deck singing as he makes his
way aft – “Give My Regards to Old Broadway.”
0330 – Benediction and Rosary; 300 present.
saturday night, november 7, 1942.
2200 – Jagged lightning behind what appear
to be hills in the distance.
2400 Midnight – Patrol Boat – if it fires,
“Blast her out of the water.” We also passed a Portuguese ship last night brightly illuminated. She did
not see us; if she had, she would have been sunk
after her passengers were taken off. I give out
Viaticum to the Catholic men in the library after
hearing confessions.
0045 – Topside, inky blackness; can’t even
see my hand in front of me. Two clusters of light
ashore; boats going over the side.
I stand by silently and bless the men as they
start their battle operation. The President speaks
four hours before we land.
0230 – Mass in library with Jack Burke present.
0315 – Topside. Cmdr. Irwin is directing traffic
on the bridge.
0330 – Tea and toast.
0500 – Five French ships, merchant-men, pass
right ahead of us, blue, red, green; Foudrayante Dohremy unmistakably painted on the sides.
0545 – Lieut. Starkweather sends up red cluster
that shows the net has been broken and that the
48 | in their own words
destroyer U. S. S. Dallas can go up the river to the fort
and then on to the airport.
0605 – Tremendous barrage of red hot steel laid
down on the beach. Broken arc of red dashes against
the black velvet of the night sky.
Dawn. A cloudy day. Lieut. Haile returns to the
ship and remarks that the first three waves got ashore
without difficulty. Commando Net Party returns to
ship; net not broken. Searchlight picked them up –
crossfire of machine guns nailed party down helplessly.
0740 – Shore batteries open fire on us alone; we
are the biggest of eight ships with all invasion boats
clustered around us like a hen with chicks – eight
near misses. Wheeeeeeeeee – then tremendous
geysers; one shell right over the forecastle. We could
follow the course of the shells coming from the fort
on the crest of the hill.
0800 – “Enemy Bombers Overhead!” from Executive Officer.
0805 – U. S. S. Pennsylvania AA guns fire – two
puffs – plane aflame, plunges into ocean, disintegrates.
0815 – U. S. S. Savannah and U. S. S. Texas pour
tons of steel into the fort. Ammunition dump ashore
a pillar of smoke.
0945 – Three casualties; two serious – Lieut.
McCrackin and Kolfenbach, a Catholic to whom I
administer the Last Sacraments when he was dying
after being on the operating table for two hours. Four
bullets drilled him; strafed by planes as his boat hit
for the beach. “All hands to General Quarters; enemy
submarine sighted off starboard beam.”
1230 – In sick bay. Depth charges rocking ship
during operations on wounded. We maneuver wildly
to escape subs.
1330 – We have command of the air with our
planes cruising in formation over us. Topside, heavy
firing shoreward and seaward. Radio man tells me
last report. “Co. F reports that it is completely
surrounded by the enemy.”
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
sick bay cases:
1630 – Six more casualties; three ambulatory.
Lieut. Starkweather of Net Party reports that
“we were spotted immediately and caught in searchlights, withering crossfire of machine guns, both
jetties, and then we had to run for it as the fort laid
it on us also.”
Young sailors who wouldn’t wear life jackets
once now all wear them; wouldn’t wear helmets
either. “Enemy bombers overhead” cured them.
Strange, even at that announcement, how one could
be so cool, stand watching them, and go to bed at
2015 and sleep through a quiet night.
monday, november 9, 1942.
Arose at 0700. Mass attended by Commando
Party in gratitude for their safe return. Day is a bit
cloudy; “rainy sunshine.” We move closer, within
four miles of beach. Tremendous surf crashing
on the jetties, ship rolls on the swell. Fifteen more
wounded. We move within one mile of the beach.
Picturesque summer colony of light brown cottages
with red-tiled roofs. On this beach our men landed
yesterday morning.
Four men dumped out of boat as she was being
hoisted in; dangerous but nobody is injured, fortunately. One man wounded in arm; was ducked once
on beach, then again as he was being lifted into
the ship.
Twenty-three American bombers fly over us.
Last night two destroyers pour hot metal over the
hills at some objective which we cannot see; arc
of red hot dashes for miles.
Boat #5 spills being lifted up with one wounded
man who gets ducked. Inboard guy loose. Five
dumped when Penn tankers hit sandbar, then
surf upended, nosed her over with men in tank.
Report on radio: “Fierce fighting north of Casa
Blanca.” “That’s us,” says Perkins, E. M. 1/c.
49 | in their own words
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
Machine gunned by plane before
hitting beach.
Machine gunned on shore.
Shrapnel cases.
Concussion – Jack Bennett.
Man blinded in whose face gun exploded.
Crushed by boats against side of ship.
Crushed by boat broached on the beach.
U. S. S. Penn: Seven drowned in tank in
boat nosed over by surf- heavy swell.
One man about 26 was quietly sobbing to himself. “If I can help you, I’d be glad of the privilege.
What’s the trouble?” “Nothing, sir.” After a while, he
said that he went to pieces under the gunfire, machine
gun plane strafing and coast artillery and men crumbling on every side of him.
1000 – Commando Net Party tries again.
I give Catholics Viaticum; six of them.
1015 – They shove – portside aft – pitch dark
down the landing net. Just before they go, “Kneel
down, men.” Benedictio Dei, etc. “May the blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost
descend upon you and remain forever. May He
be with you in your mission and bring you
back safely.”
tuesday, november 10, 1942.
There was a knock on my door at 0400. Three
men of the Party, Chief and two others. “Well,
Padre, we made it.” Congratulations and then the
story. Ran out of fuel first, came back at midnight
to the ship, then started in again, black as coal.
Tremendous surf. Got by the jetties, being carried
down the river. No Colonel Henny on the dock of
the fish cannery as expected. Suddenly swept onto
the net; rocket guns cut steel cables one inch thick –
one cut, current forced most of cable out; then cut
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
the other and both of the two dories at either end
of them swept out to sea and they swept out after
them, raked by machine gun fire from nests south
of the fort and by 75mm from near the fort; shell
about 18 feet long and eight inches in diameter.
Green, the bowhook; Southern youngster. “Did you
ever operate a machine gun before?” “No, sir, but
ah sure operated this one!” (Quiet, soft-spoken, yet
to shave.) Courage and bravery of these boys under
fire – don’t worry about American youth, one and all
of them. Surf 30 feet high on way out. Boat about 30
feet long pointed bow ride up to the crest and then
drop as if going over a cliff. Lieut. Starkweather lifted up bodily, flung nose first on the deck – sprained
ankle, smashed fingers. River Oued Sebou. “Would
rather face hell of machine gun fire than that surf
again.” Afraid – all of them grown men but got used
to it after a while.
0700 – Destroyer Dallas goes up the river
48 hours late with 80 Rangers to take the airfield.
1030 – Seven casualties brought alongside; four
brought aboard when General Quarters was sounded. First Aid station was set upon the beach, then
carried out, ferried to us on ship in tank lighter.
Three left behind in lighter as we got underway on
sub alarm.
I stayed with a Lutheran who remarked: “I sure
would appreciate a prayer.” He had been wounded
by shrapnel in the arm badly, in the forehead, on
the left eyebrow, left hip, left leg in front and right
calf. “Sweet Jesus, mercy. I offer up this suffering
for you in union with your sufferings on Calvary for
my sins, for my buddies wounded and lying ashore
without protection or attention.”
1345 – Just met Lieut. Gilchrist outside my
door. He was in the tank lighter that capsized
yesterday 300 yards from shore, in 30 feet of water,
nosed over by 30 feet of surf. Four soldiers in tank
trapped and drowned, sunk not like a stone but like
what she was – a tank.
50 | in their own words
1350 – End of General Quarters.
1430 – Dive bombers, three of them, circled
over target on hill, then leveled off, came in and
blasted; then Texas on north and Cruiser on south
poured in their salvos of shellfire.
1500 – Tug pulls alongside with two Frenchmen; name of tug – Moumein. Two family men
said that Germans took them to Dakar. They
jumped off the ship and swam ashore. French think
they are fighting the English. Took both of them to
wardroom for coffee. They asked for milk for the
children. Loaded them with food and their tug with
supplies for men ashore.
Situation ashore: Airport taken today at 1200.
Our P 40s land; five nose over. A Major, one of
our patients, was the only one seriously hurt.
This afternoon casualties started to flow back to
us; lose first man, Huffstutler, from a bullet wound
in stomach.
A Protestant carried over his heart a copy of
the Gospel according to Mark, small copy – bullet
cut through it and picture of his girl and left only
a black and blue bruise. “Supply your own
explanation, Father.”
1800 – Dinner in wardroom, radio turned on.
Englishman broadcasting from Berlin remarked
that Media Beach had been captured. First mention
of us at all by any commentator. Oran and Tangiers
fell last night, Monday.
2000 – Executive Officer informs me that the
Captain desires burial of soldier who died this
evening to be done ashore tomorrow morning.
wednesday, november 11, 1942.
0900 – I go ashore in support boat with body
of Huffstutler. Two machine guns on either side
and cases for 48 rockets, 4 lbs of TNT, racks six on
either side with four slots on each.
We hug the south jetty on the northern side.
Swirling current and surf about ten feet high.
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See tragic reminders of inexperience of coxswains
with this shore; overturned lighters near the rocks.
River runs parallel with ocean after a sharp turn.
We hit Brown Beach and as I step ashore on
African soil for the first time I raise my hand in
blessing. The entrance to the fort is just off the
narrow catwalk. Off to the left is the house where
temporary headquarter have been set up. I inform
the doctor present of my mission and am directed
to Blue Beach where a cemetery is being built. On
the way up I see the roadway lined with bodies of
Americans and Moroccans. Directly overhead are
the frowning walls of the old sandstone Moroccan
fortress that our men took by storm yesterday. After
a mile and a half ride in an army jeep I met Dr.
Cassedy, our young doctor, who went ashore with
the medical detachment Sunday morning. He is
happy to see me and all his corpsmen sing out a
“Hello, Father!” They are working like slaves taking care of the American, French and Moroccan
wounded. A hospital has been improvised of a large
summer residence. Twenty beds have been set up
and there the wounded are being attended to. I give
the Last Rites to two badly hit Frenchmen who
will die.
Mehdia Plage itself is a picturesque little summer resort of 154 houses by actual count. French
love of color in evidence – buff, cream-colored
walls, blue blinds, red and green tiled roofs.
I am told that Army Chaplain Tepper, the
Jewish Rabbi, for whom I am searching is up at
the cemetery just over the brow of the hill behind
the town. On the way up I see three women and a
cluster of half a dozen children about four and five
years old. I tell Conway the bugler and the soldier
accompanying me to wait for a minute while I go
down and identify myself as a Catholic priest
and give them some medals of Our Lady and the
Little Flower. The eyes of the mothers light up at
the mention of St. Therese de Lisieux.
51 | in their own words
Pass gabled house – seven gables and coneshaped roof, along a sand road, down, then up a
slight incline, a turn to the left through the short
cedars, where an American flag identifies the location of seven American bodies. There is a sailor
from the Anthony Cooper who is awaiting burial.
He was killed when his tank lighter capsized and
his head struck the side.
Chaplain Tepper is now down at the fort I am
told, so I start down for the Mehdia Plage again and
receive a ride up to the fort there and meet Tepper
who is directing the collecting of the bodies. The
fort was a formidable military installation, a steep
precipice on one side and three slopes leading up
to it on the other side, pitted with foxholes and
trenches. Flanking its approaches are large concrete
square houses with half a dozen compartments.
These presented an obstacle to assaulters that was
costly, as the corpses stiff, cold, and frozen in the
grotesque positions of their death agony testified.
What a hideous, repulsive countenance war has.
It tears the heart to see the tragedy of young faces
upturned to the sky, staring with glazed eyes meaningless at the sun.
When half a dozen bodies had been collected
in addition to my two boys – sailor and soldier, I
started the service at about one o’clock just outside
the east end of the fort by a Moslem cemetery.
Along the south wall were lined the bodies. Along
the east wall the graves were being dug by 50 odd
Arab prisoners. They stopped, flanked me on the
right, with 50 of our soldiers on my left, the bugler
on my rear.
I read our prayers over them after the soldiers
and Arabs and a few French have snapped to attention when the order was given them, “May the
Angels lead thee into Paradise, may the Martyrs
receive thee at thy coming, etc.” Never shall I forget
the circumstances under which I conducted that funeral service. Overhead the blue sky was cloudless,
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
a gentle Moroccan breeze stirred the air of a day
warm with sunshine. At the foot of the hill, swinging idly at anchor, were our eight ships, Commando
and cargo, while the protecting screen of
destroyers and patrol craft and the battlewagon
Texas kept away the marauders of the sea. Straight
ahead stretched away the broad reaches of the
Atlantic. Over the edge of its horizon was country,
home, dear ones, for all of which these boys from
New York and Michigan and Texas had died that
the foul breath of Hitlerism might never come close
enough to blight those near and dear to them.
Here these boys lie on the crest of this hill on
which they gave their last measure of devotion. The
bugler sounds taps and we have paid them our last
respects. “Eternal rest grant unto to them, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine upon them. May
their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed
rest in peace. Amen.”
The simple but impressive ceremony is over
and the Arabs go back to their task of digging the
graves. A Catholic boy who comes up to me regrets
that there was no Catholic priest aboard his ship on
the way over. I hear his confession then and there
on the hill.
I wander around the hill and the fort to give my
blessing to men whose bodies have not yet been
brought in, twelve in all. A young officer, Lieut.
Sharf, is one who ate in our wardroom; a splendid
young Jewish boy who wondered when he left the
ship at midnight Saturday if he would see his wife
by her next birthday in May. He lay where he fell,
200 yards from the east wall of the fort, dying as
he led his men in charge. Inside one of the small
rooms in the glorified pillbox are two Catholic boys
who managed to get in alive but will be brought out
differently. They are lying in their own dry caked
blood, their heads horribly gashed, brain of one of
them completely exposed.
Off to the west are two long trenches protecting the line of six 5” guns that lobbed shells at us
52 | in their own words
Sunday morning. One had been blasted by a direct
hit. At the base of the other lay a boy by the name of
Hastings from New York City. His mother, mercifully, will never know how he looked in death. To
one and all of them I give my blessing. The last has
a small funeral group as three sailors join me in
saying prayers over a boy from Indiana. At the lighthouse one of the Lieutenants whom we carried over
the ocean informs me that he will be grateful if I
would explain to the Arab family in the square white
house next to the lighthouse that they may stay if
they wish. I tell them, “S’il vous plait, restez ici.”
The man of the family is grateful for the information and stops carting out their pitifully few possessions. Their mule that had given them, I suppose,
patient dogged service, is dead alongside their door.
Returning down to Brown Beach we see more
evidence of the murderous efficiency of the dive
bombing that finally crushed all resistance.
I speak with French boys 16 and 17 years old.
They say that they did not know that they were
fighting the Americans; they thought they were
English – for whom they have apparently only a
bitter hatred and would fight to the year 2000
against them.
1600 – We return to Brown Beach where the
prisoners are industriously unloading our boats of
their supplies. A squadron of deadly tanks roar out
of the temporary garage on its way to a rendezvous
somewhere.
Chaplain Tepper in charge of the personal
effects of the dead boys gives me something that
touches me deeply – a copy of Joyce Kilmer’s
“Prayer of a Soldier in France,” that I had mimeographed and gave out at the last Sunday Mass
aboard ship. Yes, this day will be among one of
the unforgettable!
Upon returning to the ship I learned that the
Armistice had been signed at 1 p.m. this morning.
Thank God this needless bloodshed is over, in at
least one section of a bloodstained world in which
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Germans are killing Russians and English, Italians
and Americans, French.
Climb up the side of the ship by Jacob’s ladder
hand over hand up 50 feet of landing net. Pitch
dark ship rolling in the long swells swings us out
away from the side and then in to it.
thursday, november 12, 1942.
Unloading of ship continues. I visit the wounded
in their staterooms; we have 65 aboard.
friday, november 13, 1942.
I go ashore in the afternoon to visit the
American wounded in the French hospital in Port
Lyautey. I step ashore at Brown Beach, arrange
for transfer of all wounded – 60 day convalescent
cases, beg a ride in an Army jeep to the town over
the crest of a hill. The town stands out dazzling
white in its African colonial setting against the
white green of the surrounding hills. At its entrance
soldier guards challenge us. I identify myself and
my mission to the two soldiers who recognize me
as off the Clymer; recently they were two of the
passengers. Off down the long paved highway
flanked with quaint houses of varying design – some
modernistic, square-boxed, cream-colored walls, blue
blinds, yellow roofs. I guess that they are, or rather
most of the buildings are white to lessen the heat of
the Moroccan sun. In the hospital I greet two of our
boys badly wounded; one will die, the other will live
minus his left forearm. I give out cigarettes – worth
their weight in gold, chocolate bars, and apples;
people have had a lean time these last few years.
On the way back to Brown Beach in the jeep,
I espy Major Dilley of the Army. We have a happy
reunion for a few minutes. When we last heard of
him, he was shying away from shrapnel thrown
by a French shell. It was good to see him safe and
sound after so many wounded. He informed me
that 74 Americans were killed, about 700 French-
53 | in their own words
men and Moroccans. Their firepower could not
match our rifles, more rounds, grenades, machine
guns, artillery, etc.
saturday, november 14, 1942.
Sperry of the Commando Party presents me with
a beautiful picture of the fort. I shall always treasure this tangible evidence of their thoughtfulness.
It will also help to freeze in my memory the spot
where I counted 58 crosses last evening.
Lieut. Mark Starkweather, 3174 165th Street,
Cleveland, Ohio (his permanent address) finds that
he has a broken heel as another souvenir of his trip
up the river to break the net.
sunday, november 15, 1942.
Although we were supposed to start out for
sea yesterday afternoon, we didn’t pull up the
hook until 0630 this morning.
0715 – Mass. End of General Quarters.
“Where are we going?” is the question on
everybody’s lips. Casa Blanca is the answer to the
question; again, only a guess but a good one for
our ship has only one-third of her cargo unloaded
and it would seem the height or the depth of
inefficiency for us to carry back again all this
most important material.
1210 – We sight the Electra sinking. She was
one of our group which, for some strange reason,
ventured out alone last night and caught it early
this morning. At two o’clock we make out on the
shoreline with which we have been running parallel all the way, a beautiful town – Casa Blanca, with
the hills rising directly behind it. Most modern in
design; apartment houses, corner windows, ten
stories high, cream and buff colored buildings.
As we come in behind the breakwater we see
evidence of the naval struggle that took place last
Sunday, melancholy reminders of what might have
been if we were only friends from the beginning.
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Dr. Walker mentions that four of our transports
were sunk just off this breakwater while unloading
Wednesday after the Armistice had been signed.
About one hour ago just outside the harbor the
sea was littered with our life rafts and sea rations;
tangible evidence of something that was hit.
Tied up alongside of us and the French freighter on the south side is a torpedoed destroyer that
shipped the tin fish just above her waterline. Just
the other side of the little railroad, off our starboard,
is a French destroyer and a battleship burned at the
water’s edge.
Sermon today at Mass. Introduction – eventful week, recollections of things seen and heard,
impressed indelibly on the memory. Each man has
his own recollections. Mine: Saturday
Mass – Benediction, Viaticum – stories –
St. Mark’s Gospel copy shot – Big One – Funeral
Service – Setting. One thing we all share is our
obligation of gratitude to God and remembrance
of the souls in Purgatory.
1900 – Just back from the U. S. S. Hambleton,
destroyer tied up alongside of us. It was a torpedo
that wrecked one of her engine rooms, one fire
room, and the electrician’s room, killing eighteen
and wounding six.
The four ships sunk, Adam, the fireman, tells
me were Rutledge, Scott, Hughes, and Bliss – all
transports. Tanker Winooski that came across the
ocean with us also caught two torpedoes. Scuttlebutt has us unloaded by tomorrow night and then
setting out for home once again.
radio press release.
Churchill announced yesterday that subs hunting in packs off the N. W. Africa coast had paid a
heavy price for their foolhardiness; thirteen were
sunk in the last three days, five yesterday.
Monday, November 16, 1942.
Casa Blanca is indescribably beautiful
54 | in their own words
in the morning sunrise. Lieut. Ellery of the
U. S.S. Hambleton, moored on our portside for
steam and electrical facilities, inquires if I am a
Catholic priest. We make arrangements for Confessions at 1600. I hear them and then I go into the
machinist’s shop to bless the bodies of the three
men taken out of the gaping hole in her portside
that was the engine room until a torpedo hit her
three nights ago at Fedela, where the tanker, the
Winooski, also caught it along with the Rutledge,
the Hughes, the Scott, and the Bliss.
2000 – A 150 English soldiers and merchant
marines come aboard. They were torpedoed on
September 12; lost 2000, 1400 of them Italian
prisoners, when their ship, the Laconia, was
torpedoed. Since then they have been in a prisoners’ camp. Remarks: ”It was music to our ears to
hear the noise of your guns.” “I think that this meal
is all a dream after the stuff they have been giving
us.” “Sir, I have been in the desert for two and a
half years but I never did see such beautiful dive
bombing as on last Sunday morning.” “One youngster, Paddy Kenny from Liverpool, is only fifteen
years old; shipped in the merchant marine.”
“We all thank God that we are here this evening.”
Tuesday, November 17, 1942.
1300 – We carefully nose out of our pocket
in Casa Blanca Harbor as #23 on the list of ships
that have been shoving off all morning. Goodbye
to Casa Blanca without seeing her obvious beauty
at close range; too dangerous to venture ashore.
Hence no leave granted anyone.
Just before we leave the Commander calls me
to pacify Raymond Colle, a French boy of 18 who
is sick with anxiety about what the French will do
to him if he is put ashore. He was a member of the
Army that swung over to General de Gaulle. Now
those who did that are being shot as deserters as
quickly as they are apprehended. Outfitting him in
an American coverall and soldier’s jaunty cap and
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putting him under the special protection of Lieut.
Brooks quiets him. He will proceed to Port Lyautey
where he will join up with the de Gaullists there.
I meet Major Creedon, one of our guests, and
find that we have a common friend in Fr. Webb of
Woodstock, England fame.
Some English were saved after their ship, the
Laconia, was torpedoed. They would sail by day;
then at night the sub would insist on towing them
back to the spot they had left in order to be picked
up by the French cruiser which the sub had contacted. Men aboard her who hailed the Limeys spoke
perfect English. On one occasion they had to put
four Italians over the side. “It was a case of either
them or us.” Sub apparently saw the operation,
came alongside, challenged them about it, admission; the German remarks; “Good work, after all,
they were only Italians.”
Next an Italian sub contacted them and asked
if they had any Italians aboard their ship when she
was hit. “Yes; they are aft about five miles.” “Thank
you; do you need anything?” “Could use some
water.” Gave them six bottles of water and same
amount of very good wine. The irony of this gesture!
The Laconia lost 1800 souls when she went
down in about twenty minutes even though she was
about 18,000 gross tons.
Wednesday, November 18, 1942.
When daybreak comes we are well on our way
out to sea with land no longer visible. Our small
convoy of eight ships finds its number increased
in the afternoon when three huge Army transports
loom up on the horizon, headed directly for us.
They are former Grace Liners, Uruguay, Argentina
and Brazil; each about 25,000 tons and used exclusively for transporting troops, unlike ourselves who
are combat ships.
55 | in their own words
Thursday and Friday,
November 19 and 20, 1942.
Sea is a bit choppy.
Saturday, November 21, 1942.
Sea really begins to kick up after fuelling of destroyers, one on either side of tanker. During this
evolution we slow down to about five knots per hour.
Sunday, November 22, 1942.
0650 – Mass in Junior Officers’ Wardroom;
crowded with about 70 present.
1000 – General Service in NCO Mess. Largest
attendance since I came on the ship. We are growing. Two the first Sunday total number of non-Catholics, then five, now eighty. I gave them a Catholic
sermon without the word “Catholic.”
1530 – Rosary and Benediction. I am sure Our
Lady is pleased with the mixture of Scotch, Irish,
Cockney and Yankee dialects making answer to the
first part of her Hail Mary.
Ocean really boisterous, in fact boiling today,
whipped by a 20 mile wind that we push up to 35
by our speed. Shrouds are constantly moaning;
everything is securely lashed both inside and on the
weather decks.
Sea is alive with white caps and waves that rise
to a crest of 30 odd feet. Foam lashed off the tops
by the wind forming rainbows on every side of us.
Suddenly a three-decker rainbow colors the sky in
the west where we could see a rain squall a short
while ago.
Ships on every side rolling and pitching
violently. Chenago, aircraft carrier, taking water
on the nose of her flight deck; tanker shipping
water regularly. We, I imagine, are like the ship in
front of us. When her bow plunges down, her stern
rises high and the propeller, apparently angry at being lifted out of her element, lashes out blindly for
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the sea that wouldn’t stay altogether with her and
white spray is thrown five feet on all sides.
The piece-de-resistance is furnished by the
Chaplain at dinner. We had been sliding a little bit
in our chairs which were not lashed to the deck.
Whenever we felt a move coming, we held onto the
table until the roll stopped, but for this one there
was no warning. Dr. Harris asked the Chaplain for
the bread. The Chaplain had just finished putting
a piece of white turkey in his mouth. With the
other hand he picked up the dish of bread to pass
it to Dr. Walker who had requested it. Then, the
roll. We slid to the portside, three feet, myself and
the tailman, then a long ride of fifteen feet to the
starboard. All had grabbed something by this time
except the Chaplain. I set sail again for the portside,
holding out a loaded dish of bread in one hand
trying to make a sale, and armed with a fork in the
other. “Look at the Chaplain,” I heard as I went
sailing by the customers! Then my ride was over.
Thursday, November 26, 1941 –
Thanksgiving Day, U. S. S. George Clymer.
Thanksgiving at sea. Catholic Mass at 0700.
Standing room only. Congregation – Yanks,
English, Irish, Scotch.
1000 – General Service. Congregation the
same; standing room only.
Dinner. Rough sea like a street on a windy day
when the snow is falling, streaks of snow everywhere, not even a blanket. Streaks of foam; combers breaking all over the face of the ocean. Spray
whipped off the crests lashes me in the face as I
look over the starboard side. Forty winks. Visit to
the wounded. Instructions to two potential converts.
Sermon” “Today, men, is Thanksgiving Day.
This morning we are gathered together here to take
part in a service of gratitude to Almighty God for
the blessings He has bestowed upon us.
“Although at first sight it may seem that out
here on the Atlantic, 1100 miles from home, our
56 | in their own words
little service is slight and inconsequential but that
is not the case. It would be if we were alone but we
are not. By prayer, the strongest of bonds, we are
united to countless other services being held all
over the globe, at home and abroad.
“At home in our own country, the memory of
Thanksgiving is being renewed in every section.
The day has been consecrated to prayer by our
President. So in the majestic cathedrals and modest churches back home, our mothers and fathers,
brothers and sisters, wives and sweethearts and
friends are raising their voices in song and prayers
of Thanksgiving. Perhaps they are worrying,
wondering how we are faring, little dreaming that
their fervent prayers have stood us in good stead.
“Abroad, wherever American soldiers are stationed, on ships of our Navy at sea, divine services
are being held. For the first time in history, Thanksgiving ceremonies are being conducted in Westminster Abbey with an American Chaplain presiding. Aboard ship, we too render homage to God and
join with all those services everywhere. Our prayers
do not ascend to the white throne of God as single,
isolated fragments but as part of a mighty host of
prayer, welling up from hundreds of thousands of
hearts all over the world in Thanksgiving.
“As one of the Officers remarked this morning,
‘We indeed have much to be thankful for.’ The personal blessings that God has conferred upon us, we
alone know their number. What they are is a sacred
secret between us and our Creator, but we do know
that deep down in the sanctuary of our hearts where
we walk alone with God, where no man treads without intruding, that the protecting arm of God was
not foreshortened. One and all of us can look back
upon moments when we were intimately aware that
God was with us, moments either of the remote or
of the recent past – as recently as two months ago
or two weeks ago.
“Some among you now listening to the sound
of my voice looked death in the face for six harrow-
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ing days and five nights in small lifeboats on sharkinfested waters. Death stared at you and passed you
by – for others. Others among us apparently had a
rendezvous with their last hour when landing upon
Mehdia Beach and after landing upon it. Yet death
stared at them, too, and passed them by – for others.
“Those of us left aboard ship know that we were
enveloped by God’s protection. It was there for all
to see it. Shells whined aft of us, over us, and off
our foc’stle. They fell all around us from coastal
guns. Yet not one hit its target.
“Now go back, for a moment, to that historic
day when we steamed out of Hampton Roads on
our way at last to open up the much-heralded
second front. If any man had ventured to predict
that we would return home with our ship intact,
except for the loss of a few boats, and more wonderful by far, with our crew unharmed, he would have
been labeled ”crazy” for ignoring the percentages
of modern warfare. Yet here we are – ship and
personnel intact.
“The same cannot be said of other ships and
their personnel. If I may be pardoned for injecting
a personal note, I buried sailors from other ships.
I have conducted funerals before as an ordained
ambassador of God but never shall I forget the
service on the top of the hill next to Fort Mehdia.
The Armistice had been signed a few hours before.
A number of bodies were hastily collected. I faced
them, the long row of them. Beyond them I could
see our ship and her sisters peacefully swinging at
anchor out on the broad Atlantic. The time was one
o’clock. The day was beautiful with a clear, blue
sky overhead and warm with Moroccan sunshine.
On my right, 50 Arab prisoners of war who had
been digging the graves. On my left, our own
57 | in their own words
American boys – comrades of the fallen. The
age-old prayers for the dead, always moving in
their simplicity began:
May the Angels receive you into Paradise;
May the Martyrs take thee at thy coming;
May thou, with the once poor Lazarus,
have rest everlasting.
I am the Resurrection and the Life.
He who believeth in me, even though
He be dead, shall live, And everyone who liveth
and believeth in me, Shall not die forever.
Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord,
And may perpetual light shine upon them.
May their souls and the souls of all the
faithful departed, Through the mercy of God,
rest in peace. Amen.
“Taps were sounded and when the last note
had died away, the final blessing was given to our
heroic dead. They lie buried on the crest of that hill
looking out over the broad reaches of the restless
Atlantic, toward country, home, friends, and those
near and dear to them for whom they gave the last
full measure of devotion. God, we may be sure, is
mindful of their sacrifice. He is mindful, too, of
the honored dead of our allies, soldiers, sailors, and
members of the merchant marine. We pause to pay
them all our meed of tribute and remember them in
our prayers where prayers count most, at God’s altar.
“In the words of Scripture, ‘They had girded
themselves, they were valiant men, they were ready
against the morning – they had fought the good fight,
they had finished their course, they kept the faith.’
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
“What of us? We must make certain that we,
too, have girded ourselves with the double bond of
loyalty to God and to country that we may be valiant
men in the discharge of our duty to both, that we
may be ready against the morning when the white
tremendous daybreak of eternity dawns for us. We
must also bend every effort to fight the good fight,
to finish our course, to keep the faith. Then, and
only then, are we making the best possible return
to Almighty God for the blessings and favors that
He has showered upon us. He will know that our
thanksgiving is not an empty, hollow phrase, but
a sincere, honest expression of gratitude that rises
straight from hearts of men whose lives are a living
confirmation of what they profess with their lips.”
Monday, November 30, 1942
HOME, NORFOLK, VA.!!! Minus four ships
that went East with us – they are now filed in Davy
Jones’s locker. Thank you, Lord, for bringing us
safely back again. We, indeed, have much to thank
you for! Thank you, Lord, again, for a safe 7000
mile round trip.
John P. Foley, S.J.
13
Lieutenant Commander, USN
13 John P. Foley, World War II typescript diary, 1942 – 1945. Archives of the Society of Jesus of New England,
College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, MA.
58 | in their own words
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In Their Own Words
battlefield promotion
The story of a signal honor bestowed by General MacArthur upon Father Thomas
Shanahan, S.J., was related recently to the Most Rev. John F. O’Hara, C.S.C., Military Delegate
for the Army and Navy Vicariate, by a chaplain who had just arrived from Australia.
F
ather Shanahan, a native of Waterbury and
a member of the class of 1918 at Holy Cross
College, originally reported wounded in the
bombing of Manila, actually went as chaplain of
the ship “Mactan” bearing the wounded from the
Philippines to Australia. On the eve of the fall of
Manila, General Douglas MacArthur, Commanderin-Chief of the American and Filipino forces in the
Philippines, was very anxious to evacuate all the
men wounded during the course of the war up until
that date. Despite great difficulties this was finally
accomplished. The interisland steamship “Mactan”
was converted into a Red Cross ship. A number
of doctors and nurses were assembled and the
wounded transferred late on the eve of New Year’s
Day. At the last moment it was discovered that no
chaplain had been appointed.
This part of the story has been supplied by the
four Filipino nurses who are at present in New
York, having come all the way with the wounded
men from Australia. They were among the nurses
sent to the “Mactan” to take care of the wounded in
the course of the voyage to Australia. When it was
discovered that no chaplain had been obtained, it
seems that Father Shanahan’s name was suggested
by everyone who was consulted. According to the
nurses, he had been very active during the bombing of Manila, especially in the port area where the
14 “MacArthur Honors Jesuit,” Woodstock Letters, 71, 91–93.
59 | in their own words
bombing was most intense, and his name was well
known to the military personnel especially of the
Medical Corps. He was accordingly asked to
accompany the “Mactan” as chaplain. He actually
had about five minutes’ preparation for the journey,
just long enough to call Father Hurley, his superior,
and obtain his permission to leave.
When the trip was over and the wounded had
been taken care of in Australia, Father Shanahan consulted the Jesuit Vice-Provincial in Melbourne with
regard to his future duties. It was agreed between
them that Father Shanahan should make application to become a regular army chaplain. This he did.
The regulation papers were made out. When General
MacArthur arrived in Australia he found a great deal
of desk work awaiting him. Some new commissions
had been held up pending his approval. In going
through them he found the regular form made out
but waiting his signature, commissioning Father
Shanahan as first lieutenant in the army of the United
States. General MacArthur read the name and then
inquired, “Isn’t this the Father Shanahan who was
chaplain of the ‘Mactan’?” On being assured that he
was the same man, General MacArthur crossed out
the words “First Lieutenant” on the commission and
said, “Make Father Shanahan a captain.”
The Catholic News, December 5, 1942
14
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
darwin’s dead
During the Second World War, the Japanese flew 64 raids on Darwin and 33 raids on
other targets in Northern Australia. From the first raid on 19 February 1942 until the last
on 12 November 1943, Australia and its allies lost about 900 people.
T
he Courier-Mail of Brisbane, Australia,
reproduced a poem of tribute to Darwin’s
dead, written by Father Anthony G. Carroll,
S.J., U. S. Army chaplain, and read by him at a
memorial service to
fallen men at an advanced Allied base. Father
Carroll served as a professor of chemistry at
Boston College, Chestnut Hill, Mass., prior to
entering the service.
poem in memory of darwin’s dead
On Darwin’s shore our bodies lie,
And o’er our graves the soft winds sigh,
And whisper through the star-filled night,
The story of the silver blight
That struck us from a wing-blacked sky.
Know ye who guard the slopes nearby –
Know ye who overhead still fly –
Till victory, with you we fight,
And not till then, will bid good-bye
On Darwin’s shore.
But death will never break the tie
That binds us all – we did not die
To idly gaze from some great height
On Darwin’s shore.
Adapted from The Catholic News,
15
August 1, 1942
15 Anthony G. Carroll, “Poem in Memory of Darwin’s Dead,” Woodstock Letters, 71, 345.
60 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
worship in wartime
in 1944 I was a military chaplain at Finschhafen, New Guinea, where a teeming Army
base stretched for some 15 miles along the coast. On both sides of the single road, built
out of coral by Army engineers, were acres of tents, mess halls, headquarters, shops, offices
and a hospital. Every time a six-by-six truck rolled by during the dry season, it churned clouds
of white dust into food and bedding. The 33rd Division was bivouacked there, waiting for the
word to move on Biak, Halmahera and the Philippines. There was also a Navy base for
PT boats and a landing strip for the Air Corps.
S
ometimes we saw native gangs working under the surveillance of Australians. Once in a
while, a native family would come out of the
jungle: Daddy striding ahead with his spear and his
“Marys” strung out behind him, carrying the children and household luggage. But the base itself was
largely populated by Army service troops: ordnance,
signal, quartermaster.
Under tropical sun or in the deep mud of the
rainy season, they struggled to empty huge crates
of equipment from the States: generators, refrigerators, switchboards, artillery, ammunition, food,
trucks, ambulances, jeeps, weapons carriers,
motorized field kitchens, ducks, tanks and bulldozers. These were assembled for shipment to the
combat areas where Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s
armies were successfully carrying out their islandhopping strategies.
At the height of its activities, there were upwards of a hundred thousand men on the base.
Almost all of them would have given anything to be
out of the Army and back home where they would
be free to pick up the pieces of an education or a
career, free to walk downtown without a pass or
drive a car without a trip-ticket, free to take the girl
61 | in their own words
to whom they wrote poignant letters out for
an evening and free to do as they pleased rather
than what the sergeant ordered. Of course, they
also wanted to be out of New Guinea – away forever
from palm trees and jungle rot and pestilential
insects, from ceaseless, enervating heat and
cascading downpours of rain.
Under such conditions, it was up to the chaplain to be more than a jovial, back-slapping morale
officer. Somehow he had to counsel and exemplify
patience and fortitude. He had to inject meaning
into this baffling enigma called war. So when I set
about building a chapel, I gave thought to its symbolism. I knew that as much as anything I might
say within it, the chapel’s shape, size and furnishings could be counted on to create an attitude.
The building, therefore, was fan-shaped so that
the men sat in a half-circle with their attention focused on the altar. No posts blocked their vision or
impeded their awareness of one another as mutual
witnesses to their faith and collaborating worshipers of their common Father. An altar table made
from New Guinea mahogany was supported by two
brass 90-millimeter shell cases that rested in turn
on a 500 pound block also of local mahogany. Both
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
the Army and New Guinea were thereby
symbolized by this table of sacrifice.
Candlesticks, shaped out of brass shimstock,
bore the emblem of the Ordnance Department to
which the men of this outfit belonged. The missal stand was made of heavy-gauge brass wire with
a hammer and a wrench, typical Ordnance tools,
worked into its back and crossed so as to become
the Chi-Rho symbol. The holy water stoup, fashioned from a shell case, had a sprinkler with a
handle of New Guinea mahogany and a head of
Army brass.
The thurible was a triumph of resourceful
ingenuity – a perforated jeep cylinder swinging
from bicycle chains. When the Ordnance men, who
worked on engines and called themselves greasemonkeys, saw and smelled the fragrant smoke
rising in worship from this commonplace item of
their everyday lives, they began to understand that
the Mass was not a spectacle they watched, but an
action in which they could have a part.
The tabernacle, measuring 16 by 16 inches,
suggested the troops’ pyramidal tents, which were
16 by 16 feet. It was covered with a veil resembling
a tent-fly so that they might remember that
“the Word became flesh and pitched His tent
among us.”
Looking down on this sanctuary and these
worshipers was the crucified Christ, carved from
rosewood by a non-professional but talented
corporal. The figure on the cross was robed and
crowned – a reminder that Good Friday was followed by Easter, and so the disciples of Christ may
confidently look forward to rest after labor, joy
after sorrow. Since the canopy was lined with red
silk taken from salvage parachutes, the sanctuary, illuminated by “sealed-beam” jeep headlights,
was suffused in red---the color of blood, of life, of
devoted love.
The liturgy was still in Latin in those days, so
I introduced an English “Dialogue Mass,” but it
62 | in their own words
turned out to be a clumsy and unsatisfying arrangement. When I greeted the congregation with
“Dominus vobiscum,” the leader shouted, “The
Lord be with you,” and the congregation’s response
was directed to him, not to me. But it would have
been precipitous at that time, when liturgical considerations were chiefly rubrical and rubrics had
almost the authority of the Ten Commandments,
to celebrate facing the people. It would have gotten
me a reputation as an extremist, even a faddist, and
in the climate of that era it might have the led the
congregation to think that the external conduct
of worship is more important than the interior
dispositions one brings to it.
We had only a few weeks in which to enjoy our
chapel before the battalion was alerted for movement. However, the C.O. ordered that the altar and
its appurtenances be crated and taken with us. Then,
although we were service troops that had never
expected to see combat, we hit the Philippine beach
at Lingayen where we dug foxholes and huddled
under enemy artillery fire. Some days later, when a
Regimental Combat Team had pushed the Japanese
back to Baguio and the area had been secured, we
retrieved our gear.
But we moved so often in the following months
that it was impossible to give the altar even a
temporary home. When the peace treaty was at last
signed aboard the Missouri, Cardinal Francis J.
Spellman, the Military Vicar, came to Manila, and
with 6,500 troops participating, he offered a Mass
of thanksgiving on our altar set up in Rizal Stadium. Then the altar was crated once again and made
the long journey through the Panama Canal to New
York and then to Boston College. For a while, it
served as a small chapel, but the mounting enrollments prompted by the “G.I. Bill” called for alterations that displaced the chapel.
Nowadays, the altar is the permanent centerpiece of the World War II display in the U.S. Army
Chaplains’ Museum at Fort Monmouth in New
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
Jersey, an hour’s drive from New York City. This
aging chaplain would like to think that the men
who labored devotedly to build and adorn that altar
go on occasion to the museum to see it. Where are
they now, he wonders: Bill Graham, Tip Maher,
Bob Hauser, Clarence Staudenmayer, Bob Carracher, Steve Brennan, Chris Spicuzza, Len Stack,
Tom Jones, Johnny Mangiaracina, Sammy Shapiro,
Jimmy Scannell, Leo Spinelli, Tony Galluci, Ben
Gorski…? Wherever they are, whatever altars they
gather about now, may the memory of those days
and of their dedicated efforts to provide a worthy
setting for their encounters with the Most High
sustain and comfort them.
But what happened to the New Guinea chapel
itself? The last thing I saw on that morning after
Christmas in 1944, when we left the area in a
frantic rush for the ship taking us to the Luzon
invasion, was the steep pitch of the chapel roof.
In the years that followed, I wondered if it were
still standing. Could it possibly have survived the
termites and the typhoons of more than 40 tropical
years? Perhaps after we left, the Aussies made it
into a pub. Maybe the native people used it for their
sing-sings. Or perhaps, it simply collapsed one
night when the high winds blew.
One day this spring, I looked down from an Air
Niugini 727 on the gray-green hills around New
Guinea’s Port Moresby and felt again the twinge of
distaste mixed with apprehension that this island
had always inspired in me. I had never been able to
banish the feeling that there was something sinister
in that atmosphere, something invisibly malevolent
toward those who were not children of the jungle.
I remembered, too, the miseries of the
Salamaua campaign and thought I could pick out
the thread of the Kokoda Trail along the Owen
Stanley Range, one of the highest mountain ranges
in the world. In 1942, the Japanese, having landed
at Buna on the east coast, swarmed up that trail and
down the other side until they almost reached Port
63 | in their own words
Moresby from which they would have had a clear
shot at Australia. But the 32nd American Division,
a work-horse division from Wisconsin, and the 7th
Australian Division had landed and attacked the
Japanese head-on. They pushed them up, up, up,
over the top again, and down, down, down back
into Buna.
According to legend, Gen. Robert L. Eichelberger, commanding the 32nd, then wired to General
MacArthur: “I can spit in Buna, but I can’t take it.”
MacArthur is said to have wired back: “You will take
it, or leave your body.” He took it, of course, but the
price was enormous: thousands dead or wounded.
The survivors endured malaria, dengue fever, scrub
typhus, dysentery, psychological exhaustion and
cold---they had left Port Moresby in tropical uniforms but needed winter clothing at the summit
of the range. From a purely military standpoint, it
was one of the finest exploits of the war. We should
never have heard the end of it if it had been done
by the Marines. But the human cost overpowers the
imagination. I remember Pope Paul VI pleading before the United Nations General Assembly in 1965:
“Jamais plus la guérre, jamais encore!” (“No more
war! War never again!”)
As the plane came in for the Finschhafen
landing, I peered intently at the empty harbor and
the silent landscape. I was looking for something,
anything, familiar. They had told me that because
Finschhafen was a malarial area, it had not been
developed as Moresby, Lae and other provincial
centers had been. So, I had guessed, the place
would look pretty much as it did when I last saw it.
When we set out from the Lutheran Mission
Hospital, however, I could recognize only one feature---that single road along the coast, built of coral
by our engineers and now somewhat macadamized.
Dr. Hershey, the American volunteer physician at
the hospital, had generously loaned us his car. I had
to drive on the left and use a stick-shift instead of
the automatic transmission that has become more
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
familiar in recent years. But it didn’t matter;
we met almost no traffic.
We dipped into the hollow where Base
Headquarters had been, but saw only thick underbrush and mature palm trees. Then we reached the
level stretch where I was sure the 900 men of the
Ninth Ordnance Battalion had had their tents and
shops. This must be the place. This was where I
would find my chapel. But there was nothing, not
even a bit of old metal rusting away under the gently waving fronds of jungle vegetation. I suppose
the native people had carried away whatever they
could use after we left, and anything else simply
disintegrated.
We stopped to explore a bit as best we could under the fierce midday sun---how had we ever done
such heavy work in such a climate?---but I could not
identify with certainty even the chapel site. I asked
questions at a general store near what had once
been the Navy Base and also at the Lutheran minor
seminary but only got a wondering and regretful
shaking of heads.
We drove on, but I knew we had gone too far
when we reached Scarlet Beach. (The Japanese had
attempted a landing there and had been repulsed
with so much bloodshed that the place was given
this grisly name. That is what it is still called,
though the natives probably don’t know why.)
We went back to search again, scanning every
foot of the way. Nothing. If I had heard the kookaburra bird cawing its raucous laugh, I would have
thought the triumphant jungle was mocking me.
With sympathetic perception, my traveling companion and Boston College colleague, George Lawlor,
S.J., sensed my disappointment. In a quiet, let’sbe-reasonable tone, he said: “You fellows came out
here to establish peace, didn’t you?”
“I suppose we did,” I answered.
“Well,” he said, “Look around you.”
The breeze soughed softly through the palm
trees, and I broke into a slow grin. It was true. The
Japanese were gone. We Americans had gone. The
Australians had gone. The country belonged, as it
should, to the people of New Guinea. Mission accomplished. So if my chapel had vanished, it didn’t
matter. I took a last look at the serene and silent
bush, said a quick prayer for all the comrades, living and dead, of those days and drove back to the
hospital. Dr, Hershey, with rare delicacy and kindness, thanked me for what we had done, more than
40 years earlier, for New Guinea.
William J. Leonard, S.J. 16
16 William J. Leonard, “Worship in Wartime,” America, (August 8, 1987). Reprinted with permission of America Press, Inc.
c 1987.
64 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
a parable of redemption
i don’t remember that i thought of world war ii, while we were fighting it, as just
another episode in the history of salvation. the convulsion it brought into all our
lives was too gigantic. And if we had been able to grasp the full dimensions of the horror at
that time – in particular the demonic things associated with names like Dachau and Auschwitz,
Bataan and Lubyanka Prison – it would have seemed such a sickening concentration of misery
that we could not have endured it.
I
t was not a pretty time to be alive. We had
known the bread lines of the depression, and
as the thirties drew to a close we heard Mussolini ranting in the Piazza Venezia in Rome and
saw the stormtroopers goosestepping into Prague
and Vienna. The lights went out, then, all over the
world; it was the scorched earth of the Ukraine and
the Nine Hundred Days of Leningrad; it was disaster at Dunkirk and death raining from the skies
over London; it was, finally, Pearl Harbor, Anzio,
and Omaha Beach.
This convulsion, they said, was the birth pangs
of a new order, the kind of thing that happens
about every five hundred years. But this was too
cataclysmic – no new order could be worth that
much wretchedness. One claps his hand to his
mouth and falls silent in the presence of an evil
so hideous, so enormous.
My office [86th Infantry Division, Camp Livingston, Alexandria, La., in 1944] was in the rear
of the chapel building, quite adequate except there
were no screens in the windows, and after dark all
the bugs in Louisiana came in to see me, including
some revolting specimens at which I used to stare
in disbelief. Almost always I had a stream of men
with problems. It had been decided, for instance,
65 | in their own words
that the Air Corps and the Army Special Training
Program (ASTP) were overloaded, and many hundreds of men in these relatively pleasant outfits had
been assigned to the infantry.
A more disgruntled and resentful crowd I had
never seen. Some of them were in their middle and
late thirties; they found that long hikes and crawling on their bellies gave them anguish in areas
they had never been conscious of before. Some
were kids who had enlisted in the ASTP believing
that they would be sent to medical school or graduate studies. Some had highly specialized skills for
which, with reason, they foresaw no use in a rifle
company. Very occasionally I was able to help by
arranging a transfer to the medics or the signal
battalion, but for the most part all I could do was
provide a sympathetic ear; they were infantry, and
that was that.
There was one exception. A colonel sent for me
one morning to tell me about a lad who refused to
fire a rifle or throw a grenade.
“He says he’s a pacifist,” the colonel snapped.
“I want you to set him straight, and if you don’t
succeed, I’ll court-martial him and send him to
Leavenworth.”
“Maybe he’s sincere,” I offered.
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
“I don’t believe it. He enlisted in the army,
didn’t he? He thought he’d get a free ride through
medical school, and now that bubble has burst, so
he’s taking the easy way out. You think I’m hard,
don’t you? Look, Father, I was at Pearl Harbor the
day the Japanese hit us. I want to pay off those beggars, and I have no illusions about them. They’ve
been tough and they will be tough. If we’re going to
survive, we have to be tough, and that boy will have
to do his part. Knock some sense into his head.”
I saluted and went out with a real worry. I
respected the colonel as a man and an officer and
understood his attitude, but the thing wasn’t that
simple. When the boy in question reported at my
office my anxiety grew. He was a blocky, muscular
fellow, no sissy. He spoke slowly and softly and
without emotion.
“I don’t think it’s right to kill,” he said
“Then why did you enlist?” I asked.
“They told me I would go to medical school.”
“Are you afraid of combat?”
“No, I’m quite willing to go as a medic.”
I gave him all the classic arguments for the
legitimacy of a just war. I reminded him that we
were being attacked. I pictured as vividly as I could
the consequences of the Axis victory over us. I
quoted all the theologians I knew. After our talk,
feeling that there must be other considerations I
had overlooked, I wrote for help to a theologian at
home. The theologian’s answer, alas, was an appeal to paternalism that even in those days sounded
very hollow to me. By what right, I was to ask the
soldier, did he oppose his immature opinion to the
considered judgment of his country’s leaders? I
never asked the question. I was afraid it might be
the same question that was being put to young men
in Germany about that time.
We talked, however, far into the night on several occasions, and I found that I could not shake
him. A very small thing finally convinced me of
his sincerity. We were sitting in my office, very
66 | in their own words
late, and my lights must have been almost the only
ones burning in the whole camp. The walls and
the ceiling were crawling with insects, and I had
been killing the most annoying of them. Then one
particularly nauseous centipede landed on his arm
and started for his face. Very gently he brushed the
repulsive thing away and went on talking.
Next morning I reported to the colonel that I
was thoroughly convinced of the boy’s sincerity and
recommended that he be transferred to the medical
battalion. The colonel glared at me, told me I had
greatly disappointed him, and said he would make
sure that the lad got twenty years in Leavenworth.
But long afterward, when I met the division again
in the Philippines, the young soldier was with
the medics.
It was after 6 P.M. when we were dropped at an
Ordnance company in San Fernando [in the Philippines with General MacArthur’s forces at the end
of the Luzon campaign, 1945] where we not only
got a temporary repair job done on the jeep but also
wrangled a square meal and a much-needed bath.
Alas, the jeep stalled twice more before we reached
the outskirts of Manila, and then, because of rumors
that Rizal Avenue had been mined, Fr. Ortiz took us
through side streets to the gates of the University
of Santo Tomas. During the Japanese occupation,
American and European civilians had been interned
either here or at another camp at Los Banos about
30 miles south, still in enemy hands. It was now
dark, and the MPs didn’t even want even to hear of
letting us in, but Fr. Ortiz’s golden leaves came in
handy, and we pushed the jeep through the gates.
The ex-prisoners were enjoying their first movie in
three years, and it would have been difficult to pick
out any individual in the crowd, so we walked on
and suddenly ran into Archbishop O’Doherty, the
archbishop of Manila, with whom we had a long
conversation. He told us of all the maneuvering
and chicanery he had to use to avoid being forced
into a public approval of the Japanese regime, and
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
of his many narrow escapes from imprisonment in
Santiago. At last I said, ”Your Excellency, where are
the Jesuits?”
“Father,” he replied, “over behind that building,
which used to be a girls’ dormitory, you’ll find a
big chicken coop. That’s where all the priests
are living.”
Well, in that shanty we found Fr. Hurley, the
superior, Fr. Vincent Kennally, later bishop of the
Caroline Islands, Frs. John and Vincent McFadden,
Fr. Anthony Keane, Br. Abrams, and a number of
Columbans, Oblates and Maryknollers. It was a
wonderful reunion, particularly since Fr. Dugan
had told us horrible stories he had heard by grapevine about atrocities involving Fr. Hurley and Fr.
Keane. It was glorious to find that the stories were
simply not true. There were plenty of horrors without those.
In the middle of the excitement [the liberation
of Manila] a priest came up to me with his hand
extended. “Hello, Bill.”
I was embarrassed. “Er-hello, Father,” I said
uncertainly.
“Don’t know me, eh?”
I looked again, but nothing registered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Buck Ewing!” he said.
I was staggered. The last time I had seen the
67 | in their own words
it not been for the loyal devotion of the Filipinos in
the city, who threw bundles of food over the walls to
the prisoners, there would have been few survivors
in Santo Tomas.
The erstwhile prisoners told us how respectful
the men of the First Cavalry had been when they
first came into the camp, and I thought I knew why.
I myself felt a sense of awe in the presence of these
Americans who had undergone so much. Somehow
the word internees (a clumsy word in any case) had
always held for me an exclusively masculine connotation; I was shocked when I saw women and girls
among them. And the babies! Some of them had
been born inside the wretched compound; others
were so young when they went in that they never
knew anything else.
Fr. Ewing told us of a conversation he had
overheard between a little boy and his father.
“Daddy, when we get out I’ll stand in the
breakfast line and get your food for you.”
“But there won’t be any breakfast line
outside, son.”
“No breakfast line? Well, how can we eat?”
All this time I was looking expectantly about,
and finally I asked, “Where is Fr. Doucette?”
Fr. Doucette was a New Englander like myself;
his family and mine had been friends for years.
They told me he was living in another building,
and Brother Abrams volunteered to get him.
“Don’t tell him who it is,” I said.
Meanwhile we went out to push the jeep a
little closer to the shanty, and while we were at
it, Fr. Doucette arrived. He peered at me in the
darkness, and I had to tell him who I was. It was
a most delightful meeting for us both. I gave him
all the news I had from his family and from the
province, and he spoke of his confinement in
Santiago Prison.
Because he had directed the observatory at our
college, the Ateneo de Manila, the Japanese were
convinced that he was working secretly with the
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
American navy and had imprisoned him. Though
he showed no bad effects, I suspected that he had
had more to put up with than he told us about.
The great loss for him, he said in his self-effacing
manner, was the observatory; he had managed to
remove and hide the lens of the telescope, but
everything else was gone.
Back at the university, Bill and I went on listening to stories. We heard how the prisoners, first
confined in 1942, had set up a government for
themselves, and how they had built on the campus the shanties and the lean-tos, the only shelter
they were permitted to have. Months wore on and
turned into years. Hopes that flamed high at first
began to burn low. But in September 1944, the
first American planes appeared over the city; the
prisoners ran out of their huts and cheered and
hugged one another until the Japanese threatened
to shoot them. But October passed, and November, and December, bringing no further raids, and
hope waned once more. Then came that wonderful
night in early February when the prisoners heard a
column of tanks in the street outside. They thought
nothing of it since the Japanese often moved their
armor from place to place. But suddenly the leading
tank swung in and butted its snub nose against the
campus gates, and they screamed, “Americans!”
The First Cavalry had sent in a spearhead of
only 300 men, but they took the gate and swarmed
in. The prisoners rushed on them, heedless of
Japanese snipers in upper stories of the buildings,
flinging their arms about them until the soldiers
themselves urged them to go back for safety’s sake.
It is probably farfetched and I shall be accused
of preaching when I say it, but when I think of the
Redemption, especially the Resurrection of Christ,
or of his coming again at the end of time to “wipe
away all tears from our eyes,” as the Book of Revelation says, it’s actually this story that returns to my
mind. The long waiting at Santo Tomas---longer
because no one could say when it would end---the
perplexity, the hunger, the need to bolster others’
courage at the same time your own is languishing,
and then the swift, incredible release, the mad joy,
the freedom, the friends, the food, the going home--it seems to me the best parable in my experience
for what will happen when Our Lord returns to
claim his own.
William J. Leonard, S.J. 17
17 William J. Leonard, “A Parable of Redemption,” Company, (Winter, 1989), 10-13. Reprinted with permission of Company,
c 1989.
68 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
pastoral ministry
Fassberg, Germany 18 April 1949. Things have been the busiest ever. To start with we have about
3,000 men on this post, and occasionally due to illness of another Catholic Chaplain in Celle,
25 miles away, I have to cover both posts in cases of crash. Sundays we have three Masses: at 0900,
1100 and 1600 hours. Mondays and Thursdays I teach in the local British school, where I have a
catechism class of about six children, ranging in age from five to seven, mostly of Irish origin.
E
very evening we have Mass at 5:30 p.m. and
there is the usual number of converts to care
for. Now they have found out I can give priests’
retreats, so for the past three months I have been
flying once a month to some part of Europe to give
a Day of Recollection. The last one was in Frankfurt,
where Bishop Muentsch, the Papal Delegate, attended
and made some flattering remarks. So it seems I
may be called on regularly for this type of work also.
Then we have taken on the local orphanage at Celle,
where there are a minimum of 50 and a maximum
of 96 children, all victims of the war and the shifting of population. I have a “Big Brother” project in
operation whereby one GI takes on the responsibility
of one child (or more if he sees fit) and acts as a Big
Brother. Fortunately, I have the assistance of some
adults in Celle who speak English and do my interpreting for me. Gradually the lot of these children is
being changed due to American generosity. They now
have a second suit of clothes; their quarters have been
DDT’d and their flour sacks have been replaced by
regular white sheets. They still need more shoes and
underwear; but these have been promised.
Our latest project is a pilgrimage to Rome on
the 25th of April, when 44 of our lads will go to see
the Holy Father and see Rome for 3 days. On the 17th
of June I hope to lead a group to Lourdes to visit the
Grotto. The trip to Rome will go in two sections of 22
each, plus a five man crew for the C-47…..Here the atmosphere is strictly pagan. The nearest Catholic priest
who speaks English is either at Hamburg or Bremen
– a good three hours by jeep. I try to make it every two
weeks but the punishment to my aching back is starting to be just too much….
And now I must hurry off to start the 5:30 p.m.
Mass. Since the mission, the attendance has picked
up somewhat. Maybe when we have dependents a
little nearer, it will go up still further. By the way, one
of my parishoners is the film actress, Constance Bennett, a Catholic-of-sorts, who attends Mass regularly
on Sundays, and every so often brings her husband,
Colonel Coulter, the Commanding Officer of the post,
with her. She is now planning to bring their children
(two of his and two of hers by former marriages) on
the post. That will complicate things somewhat, since
I am now writing to someone out near Hollywood for
an opinion on the status of her present marriage. If
I did not have so many marriage cases to handle, my
life would be fairly serene. And most of these are
in the textbooks only in the barest outlines, without
the complications.
Time is up…
Thomas P. Fay, S.J.
18
Captain, U. S. Army
18 Letter from Thomas P. Fay, S.J. to Fr. Provincial, April 18, 1949. Military Chaplains (WWII) Files.
Archives of the Society of Jesus of New England, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, MA. Used with permission.
69 | in their own words
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
In Their Own Words
the “padre” reports
During these days of emergency the wheels of our government are moving rapidly
along the highway of National Defense. The countless natural resources of the country, the
many plants of industry, even the thoughts and the everyday lives of our people are being tuned
to the vital work of preparedness. Our manner of national life, it is reported, is seriously threatened by death-dealing forces. That democracy, as we know it, may survive depends solely on the
completeness and thoroughness of our preparation.
I
t is not surprising, then, to learn that the
strength of our armed forces has more than
doubled within the past twelve months. Each
unit and organization of the army and navy has
been authorized to increase the number of its
personnel to wartime strength. Accordingly, the
Auxiliary Bishop of the Military Ordinariate of the
Catholic Church in the United States, Most Reverend John F. O’Hara, C.S.C., has appealed to the
secular clergy and to religious orders and congregations for two hundred and seventy-five priests to
serve the armed forces as Chaplains.
To one who is familiar with the history of the
Society of Jesus the generous response given by
the Superiors of the Society to the call of Bishop
O‘Hara was expected. Saint Ignatius in his day
witnessed the beginning of a tremendous disaster.
He saw the life of the Church of Christ threatened
as the reformers led millions of souls away from
God and revealed religion. To win these souls back
to God, Ignatius founded the Society of Jesus. Four
hundred years later, the Society of Jesus of New
England has placed four of her sons on active duty
with the armed forces. Six other Jesuit priests of the
New England province who have Commissions in
70 | in their own words
the Reserve Corps are waiting for the call to duty
from the Chief of Chaplains.
The Priest in the Army
It is the purpose of these pages to give our
friendly readers a brief picture of the work of the
priest in the army. The words, “Army Chaplain,”
have little or no meaning to many people. For most
people who look upon the priest as a man of peace
fail to recognize for him a proper place among
those who carry on the work of wars and battles.
It is in the Army Regulations that we find the
following summary of the definite duties of the
Chaplain: namely,
a. to provide opportunity for public religious
worship;
b. to supply spiritual ministration, moral
counsel and guidance to all under military
jurisdiction;
c. to be the exponent of the benefits of religion
as an aid to right thinking and acting;
d. to foster the building of personal character
and contentment by example and instruction.
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
The chaplain is an officer on the staff of the
Commanding Officer and it is his duty to advise
the Commanding Officer in matters pertaining to
public religious observances and with respect to the
morality and morale of the command. “In the performance of his duties the chaplain is accountable
solely to the commanding officer. Ultimate responsibility for matters of a religious and moral nature
within a command devolves upon the commanding
officer as completely as do strict military matters.”
(Army Regulations). The chaplain, whatever may
be his rank, is addressed as “chaplain.” Yet due to
a custom of long standing, the Catholic chaplain is
addressed as “padre,” and the non-Catholic chaplain as “chaplain.” The initial grade of the chaplain
is that of First Lieutenant with the pay and allowances of that grade. The chaplain may be promoted
as high as the grade of Lieutenant Colonel. The
Chief of Chaplains alone attains the rank of full
Colonel which he retains only during his four-year
tenure of office.
Such is the clear and concise statement of the
work of the chaplain in the army. To the priest it
is not a new message or commission; it is but the
continuance of the work for which he was ordained.
The priest of the Catholic Church labors for the
salvation of souls, and while in the service of the
armed forces the circumstances of his work may
vary, the labor remains unchanged.
The “Padre” Reports for Duty
On the third day of last June, the writer of these
pages, a Jesuit of the New England province, reported for a tour of active duty with the Regular Army at
Fort Riley, Kansas. Rich in its traditions which date
back to days of the War between the States, Fort Riley is the largest Cavalry school in the whole world.
Furthermore, it has been blessed many times by the
labors of not a few exemplary and zealous priests.
Recalling to mind this history of Fort Riley, the
newly arrived “padre” made an honest effort to give
71 | in their own words
little thought to the temperature of the warm summer day and lost no time in making acquaintance
with his new surroundings. The work involved in
the obtaining and the arranging and the settlingdown in the living quarters brought forth a few
prayers of sympathy for the ‘Father Minister’ of
other days. Soon after arrival the chapel was visited
and it was found to be a beautiful edifice worthy in
every respect to be the Dwelling of the King of all
kings. Under the title and patronage of Saint Mary,
it was dedicated in the year 1938. It occupies a site
on the reservation where for many years former
chaplains and visiting priests from St. Mary’s
College had offered the Sacrifice of the Mass.
The “Padre” at Work
Among the first duties of the chaplain during
his first days on an Army Post is the work of numbering the members of his flock. If he is to attain
any evident results of his work, he must learn the
names of those who are Catholic. Although the total
strength of the personnel at the Fort was almost
four thousand, only about six hundred were Catholic. Two Masses were celebrated on the following
Sunday, and the six hundred had dwindled to about
two hundred. This small number convinced the
chaplain that he should make every effort to emphasize as often as possible the attendance at Holy
Mass on Sundays and holydays of obligation. The
fulfillment of the obligation of attending Mass has
ever been considered a sign of a practical Catholic.
The hearing of Holy Mass is one of the chief means
of obtaining the grace of God. Since we need God’s
grace for the performance of good works, it is not
surprising to discover that the Catholic who fails to
fulfill the obligation of hearing Mass, fails also in
the fulfillment of many other obligations. Excuses
offered will be legion, but seldom has any soldier a
reason for his failure to attend the Sacrifice of the
Mass on Sunday. Only amid the most extraordinary
circumstances would any commanding officer deny
�protect the health of the soldier. The words of the
chaplain should be the natural supplement of the
army regulations, for he offers the true motives for
the complete and proper solution of this question,
namely, the teaching of revealed religion which
alone explains the supernatural life of man.
Personal Interviews
Because of its most tangible results a very
comforting work is the personal interview between
the chaplain and the soldier. It is during the time
of this interview that the soldier realizes, usually
for the first time in his life, that he is talking to one
who has vowed to take a personal interest in him
and in his welfare. Oftentimes the raw recruit soon
forgets the shadows of an unfortunate background;
to the chaplain he reveals his story, his thoughts,
his aims and ambitions, for in the priest the soul of
youth recognizes the highest and most noble things
of life. The chaplain in the person of Christ stands
on the same level as the young man, but before the
interview is over, another soul is lifted up to Christ.
The explanation of all this is found in the
proper interpretation of the circumstances which
surround the young man. Accustomed to a regimental form of existence, he feels that he has been
herded and like members of a herd, he feels that he
must act and perhaps even think only as the herd
acts or thinks. He is very likely to lose his sense of
individuality. At times he may look upon himself
as a mere cog in a huge machine. In the personal
interview the chaplain has the golden opportunity
of assuring the young man that he is an individual,
that he has his own life to live, and for that reason
he must be held responsible for his thoughts and
actions. It is the opinion of the writer of these pages
that the personal interview offers the chaplain one
of the greatest natural means of accomplishing
good for the youthful soldier.
72 | in their own words
VSI
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Catholic News
On a large Post such as Fort Riley it is possible to have a personal interview with only a small
percentage of the men. Nevertheless, the personal
contact is made through the weekly letter which the
chaplain sends to every Catholic soldier. More than
six hundred copies are mimeographed each week
and sent to the individual each Friday morning. The
letter is called Catholic News of the Week, and in it
are found the explanation of a timely truth of our
faith, the program of Catholic activities for the coming week, and any items of news which may help
and encourage the soldier to lead a life in accordance with the teachings of his faith. The Catholic
News of the Week has been received with enthusiasm by the enlisted men, and it is the sincere desire
of the chaplain that it will accomplish the purpose
of its existence.
Military Field Mass
Sunday, September the eighth, is a day which
will live long in the memory of Catholics and
non-Catholics at Fort Riley. The President of the
United States had proclaimed the day to be a Day
of National Prayer. Our observance consisted in
the celebration of a Military Field Mass in the Post
Stadium. The chaplain celebrated the Mass, and the
sermon was preached by the Most Reverend Francis
A. Thill, D.D., Bishop of Concordia. After the Mass
the Bishop was the celebrant for Benediction of the
Most Blessed Sacrament. A choir of nearly thirty
Jesuit scholastics from St. Mary’s College sang
hymns for the Mass and at Benediction. A lasting
impression was made on the minds of all who
attended the beautiful ceremony.
Among the Catholic organizations on the Post
we have a Holy Name Society. The men of this
Society receive Holy Communion as a group on the
second Sunday of each month, and attend the meeting of the Society on the second and fourth Monday
of each month. The members of the Holy Name
Society are almost indispensable for the chaplain,
for the success of any enterprise undertaken by the
chaplain is due to the willingness and readiness of
these men to cooperate with their chaplain. It was
possible to have a High Mass on Christmas Eve
because of the earnest efforts of the members of
another organization, St. Mary’s choir. Because of
their enthusiasm and success with the High Mass
of Christmas, it has been decided to have a High
Mass each Sunday in the future. The High Mass
has always been considered as the parish Mass of
any congregation, and at the present time at Fort
Riley we have a parish which has already outgrown
the accommodations of our chapel.
In the expression of these few rambling
thoughts the writer has endeavored to present a
picture of the position and the work of the chaplain
in the Army. If interest has been aroused, it will be
a reward to the writer to feel confident that prayers
will bring the blessing of Heaven not only upon our
chaplains and their work, but also upon the youth
of our country who stand ready to make the supreme sacrifice.
19 John J. Dugan, “The Padre Reports,” The Jesuit Bulletin. (February, 1941).
73 | in their own words
John J. Dugan, S.J. 19
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
veterans day remembrance remarks
This address by Robert L. Keane, S.J., a recently retired Jesuit Navy Chaplain, is included
here since it speaks to the suitability of Jesuit priests for service as military chaplains for reasons as valid today as they were in World War II.
L
adies and Gentlemen, good morning! And,
thank you for your kind invitation to celebrate
this Veterans Day with you! I confess that
I am somewhat surprised and humbled to find
myself as a guest speaker at my Alma Mater. I am
also awed by being in the shadow of this venerable
library where, as an undergraduate, I spent so many
hours sleeping in the over-heated book stacks!
Nonetheless, it is both a privilege and a pleasure
for me to join you today to acknowledge the generations of women and men who have served in the
Armed Forces of our nation, many of them graduates of Boston College. Their dedication, courage
and selflessness deserve our profound respect and
our lasting gratitude.
I have been asked to speak to you this morning
about Catholic military chaplains and, in particular,
about the suitability of Jesuit priests for this very
unique ministry. I do so from the perspective of
Navy chaplains who minister primarily to Sailors
and Marines. However, I trust that my Jesuit brothers currently serving as Army and the Air Force
chaplains would concur with my observations. For
the record, let me say that I address you today not
as an official representative of the Department of
the Navy, or of the Archdiocese for the Military
Services, USA. I am but a retired Navy Chaplain
who is honored to have been a member of both
organizations for more than two decades. Hence,
I, alone, am responsible for these remarks.
74 | in their own words
Military chaplaincy is nothing new to the
Society of Jesus. Our founder, Saint Ignatius
Loyola, himself a soldier, was undoubtedly on the
receiving end of the priestly ministry of dedicated
chaplains. His successor as Superior General of
the Society of Jesus, Diego Laynez, once served
as a chaplain to Spanish naval forces in a raid on
Tripoli in 1550. Closer to home in both time and
space, Father John McElroy, the revered founder of
Boston College, served for ten months as a chaplain
to American Army personnel in 1846-1847 during
the Mexican American War. He did so, I might add,
at the age of 64!
At the close of World War II, 246 American
Jesuit priests were serving as military chaplains.
Fifty-four were members of the New England Province, and 18 of them came from the ranks of the
Boston College faculty. One chaplain, Fr. Daniel J.
Lynch, holds the distinction of being the only Jesuit
to have served in both World Wars! Another former
faculty member, Fr. Joseph Timothy O’Callahan, is
the first Navy Chaplain to be awarded the Medal of
Honor for his heroic actions aboard USS FRANKLIN in the Western Pacific. Over all, from 1918 to
the present, 67 New England Province Jesuits have
served our nation as military chaplains. Today only
one New England Province Jesuit remains on active
duty: Father John Monahan, who is at the Coast
Guard Air Station at Kodiak, Alaska.
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
I began my own active duty service in the Navy
at an age by which many others had already retired
– though I was not as old as Fr. McElroy! In the
late 1980’s you would have found me as a college
chaplain and an instructor in the modern language
department at that other educational institution in
Worcester whose name we do not mention on the
Heights. Shortly after the school year began my
supervisor asked me to reach out to the Midshipmen of the Navy ROTC Unit on campus. Many
months later an unexpected conversation with the
Commanding Officer set in motion a sequence of
events that I had never foreseen. Acquiescing to his
request that I at least think about becoming a Navy
chaplain, I researched the issue thoroughly, as any
good Jesuit would do. And I consulted with several
priest-chaplains with whom I was acquainted. They
spoke very enthusiastically about their ministry and
stressed the desperate shortage of Catholic priests
in the military. At that time, my Jesuit Community
had fifty-one priests. I reasoned that they would
likely not miss one. So, I decided to volunteer for
the naval service.
My first challenge was to convince my Jesuit superior that this plan was a really good idea. Church
authorities are notoriously reluctant to allow priests
to go off to serve in the military. They fear we won’t
ever return to our dioceses or religious communities. Suspecting that I would be fighting an up-hill
battle, I mounted a deliberate, phased campaign
aimed at persuading Father Bob Manning, my
Jesuit Provincial, to grant me permission to become
a Navy chaplain. In our initial meeting in his office
we had a cordial conversation, which he concluded
in a very non-committal fashion. He simply suggested that we both pray more about the matter.
While driving home, I reflected on our visit and,
specifically, his response to my request. Though
not lacking an appreciation for the importance of
prayer, I quickly came to the conclusion that the
75 | in their own words
Holy Spirit might benefit from a little assistance
from yours truly.
So, several weeks later I took a five by seven
index card and wrote: “Dear Bob, Reason Number
One why you ought to let me join the Navy.” I
stated my case very simply, mailed it, and waited
for his response. The Provincial replied exactly as I
expected—on the back of the very same index card.
The next month I followed up with Reason Number
Two, and a month later, Reason Number Three.
I seem to recall that we reached Reason Number
Eight or Nine before he finally capitulated—slain
by the Spirit, if not my persistence. Although
Fr. Manning has long since gone home to God,
I can well imagine that he is still enjoying a good
laugh over my unusual, if not persuasive, tactics.
I now look back on my twenty-three years,
two months and sixteen days of naval service and
wonder where the time went. Those years were
filled with marvelous opportunities for priestly
ministry, and with countless situations in which
peoples’ lives were enriched by the practice of their
Catholic faith. I sailed all around the world, landed
on six continents, and visited many of the holiest
shrines and religious sites so important to
our Faith.
Many times I have been asked: “What was your
favorite duty station?” Truthfully, I never know
precisely how to respond to that question. In God’s
good providence every one of my tours of duty was
richly rewarding and exceedingly enjoyable—but
not for the reasons I have just listed. The primary
source of my satisfaction was always the people: the
service men and women, and their families, with
whom I served and to whom I was sent to minister
as a priest and a chaplain.
I cannot find the words to describe adequately
how extraordinary are these young men and women
who volunteer to serve our nation. They repeatedly
endure cramped quarters, long deployments, physi-
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
cal rigors, long separations from their families,
uncertainty, fatigue, constant change, economic
hardship and real danger in order to honor their
enlistment or commissioning oaths. I stand in awe
of their courage and dedication. Their ingenuity,
creativity, and initiative humble me. Their selfless
commitment to each other and to their mission is
nothing less than inspiring. It is patriots such as
these whom our nation honors today. We owe them
our profound gratitude and unrelenting admiration
and respect.
The exercise of priestly ministry in the Armed
Services is intensely personal. As chaplains, we
witness marriages, baptize babies, hear confessions,
anoint the sick and dying, and share grief and suffering in moments of disappointment, confusion,
sickness and death. Names and faces are forever
embedded in our memories. For example, my very
first military funeral was that of CPL Robert J.
Murphy, USMC who died in a training accident at
Fort Ord in California. Mid-career, I was called to
the Pentagon war zone on the evening of 9-11. Two
days later I was ordered to the White House where I
joined a team of psychologists and clergy providing
counseling to the household staff and to workers in
the Executive Office Building. In the weeks that followed 9-11, I conducted seven funerals or memorial
services for Naval Academy graduates, including
one for my former shipmate, CDR Pat Dunn,
with whom I served in the Sixth Fleet. Shortly
after arriving at my final duty station at Quantico,
Virginia I laid my own nephew to rest in Section
60 of Arlington National Cemetery.
Unlike civilian pastors who are accustomed to
greeting their flock at the doors of the church, we
chaplains go out and forward with our units: we
train with them, deploy with them, get cold, wet,
tired and dirty with them. The camaraderie that
arises from those experiences builds a bond and a
trust which eventually open all sorts of doors for
76 | in their own words
pastoral ministry. To paraphrase Pope Francis,
when chaplains return to garrison after a field exercise, we definitely smell like the sheep of our flock!
Many people have seemed surprised to see or
hear of a Jesuit in uniform. I usually explain to
them that a Jesuit in the military chaplaincy is actually perfectly consistent with our history and our
spirituality. As you know, our founder, Ignatius of
Loyola, was himself a soldier. In founding the Society of Jesus he borrowed from his own life’s experiences in order to better orchestrate the ministries of
his early companions. Hence, military service and
religious life within the Society of Jesus have much
in common, and not by coincidence.
So, with this in mind, please allow me now to
share with you six reasons why I believe Jesuits are
especially well-suited to serve as military chaplains
(1) First, Ignatius states that it is according to
our Jesuit vocation to travel to the farthest corners
of the earth where there is hope of greater service
to God and of help to souls. Consequently, from the
very earliest days of our novitiate training, we Jesuits are expected to be available to serve wherever we
are needed and sent. Though many of us labor in
venerable institutions such as Boston College, Ignatius did not want us to be tied down by these commitments, but rather to be highly mobile and ready
to go at a moment’s notice wherever the need was
determined to be greater. Thus, the entire world
is our mission field. So, crisscrossing the globe as
I have done for twenty-three years would probably
not surprise Ignatius in the least. In fact, I hope it
would please him immensely.
(2) Second, Jesuits are missionaries. We go to
unfamiliar places to share the message of Jesus
Christ both in word and in deed. Throughout history we have adapted our forms of ministry in order
to better meet the needs of people, sometimes with
great success, and at other times to the chagrin of
those watching our innovations. In my first letter to
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
Fr. Manning I described to him how I had come to
identify strongly with the sixteenth-century Italian,
Jesuit missionaries who were admitted to the imperial court of China. I, like they, had to learn to speak
a new language (called acronyms), to wear different
clothing (called uniforms), to adapt to unfamiliar
social customs (called military protocol), and to live
among people whose priorities and experiences
were often very different from my own.
When I first joined the Navy the culture shock
which I experienced was disorienting, to say the
least. The only knowledge I had of military life
came from old John Wayne movies and from a few
history books I had read along the way. Like many
Word War II veterans, my own father, who was
injured in the Battle of the Bulge, never ever spoke
of his wartime experiences. Hence, it came as no
surprise to me that I had much to learn at my first
duty station from my teachers: the United States
Marines. One of their favorite expressions is
“Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome!”— an expression that I found very practical, and “motivating”,
as Marines like to say.
I recall early in this tour of duty going once
again to consult with the Battalion Executive Officer
about some matter of importance. As usual, the
X.O. was harried and busy. Despite the fact that his
desk faced the doorway, he never looked up from
the thick stack of papers before him. Recognizing
my voice, he simply barked: “Yes, chaplain, what
is it?” I thought to myself in a moment of frustration: “What do I have to do to get this man’s attention?” To this day I don’t know what possessed me,
but spontaneously I knelt down in front of his desk
and kept talking. The X.O. soon recognized that my
voice was no longer coming from high above him
but rather was at his eye level. Completely startled,
he looked up in almost total disbelief, speechless. At
that very moment, I thought: “Ah, ha, I’ve got him!”
From then on, every time I went to see the X.O.
he instantly gave me every bit of his undivided at-
77 | in their own words
tention. You see, the real issue was not that I was so
important or the matter at hand so urgent. Rather,
it was that he knew that every person who passed
by his open door would want to know why the X.O.
had the battalion chaplain down on his knees!
Learning new tricks and adapting to unfamiliar
surroundings are behaviors not unknown to Jesuit
missionaries.
(3) Third, Jesuits are called to labor for the
good of souls in an ecumenical environment. The
Navy introduced me to a world far apart from the
Boston, Irish Catholic cocoon in which I grew up.
There I occasionally encountered harsh stereotypes
or ill-informed misconceptions about the Catholic
Church. Once I was caught completely off guard
while speaking with a younger chaplain who had
never in his life ever met or spoken with a Catholic
priest. I was an entirely new challenge for him, and
he for me. Over the years I have learned to appreciate more and more the world-wide, historical and
theological perspectives which we Jesuits develop
due to our extensive education and training.
This provides a tremendously useful resource in
demystifying the Church in the eyes of others.
The Navy Chaplain Corps’ motto, “Cooperation
Without Compromise”, speaks well to the manner
in which military chaplains work closely together
on a daily basis while never sacrificing their own
religious identities.
(4) Fourth, Ignatius expected his followers to go
wherever the need was determined to be the greatest. Currently, the Department of Defense has a
total of 234 active duty priests serving approximately 1.8 million Catholics, that is, military personnel,
family members, and American diplomatic and federal employees laboring overseas in 134 countries.
Military priests deploy with their units, as well as
serve personnel at 220 military installations in 29
countries. Today approximately 25% of all military
members identify themselves as Catholic, and yet
only 8% of all military chaplains are Catholic. So,
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
given these statistics, I think it is safe to say that the
need for priestly ministry among our military services is very great indeed. A soldier himself, Ignatius
would certainly be sympathetic to Jesuits stepping
forward to assist with this need.
I want to mention in passing that the Archdiocese for the Military Services is also responsible for
providing pastoral ministry to the Catholic patients
of 153 Veterans Affairs Medical Centers throughout
the country. A number of “civilian” Jesuits have
served faithfully at these centers as chaplains to
our veterans. God bless them for their dedication
and service!
(5) Fifth, Jesuits are, by vocation, evangelizers and teachers. Within the military community
there are many, appropriate venues in which we
chaplains can speak the Good News. We do so in a
comparatively subdued manner, but our presence
as chaplains affords us the opportunity to share the
Catholic faith with any who ask. This is particularly
important in light of some of the alarming statistics
of our times. The Pew Research Center’s Forum
on Religion and Public Life issued a study not too
long ago that indicates that approximately one-third
of all Americans under the age of twenty-five claim
no specific religious affiliation or identity of any
sort. And 88% of them say that they are not actively
seeking an affiliation. They are colloquially referred
to as “Nones”—spelled “n-o-n-e-s”—since they have
no religious preference—none at all. 74% of these
“Nones” were initially raised in some faith tradition
which they subsequently abandoned. More to the
point, among our young, military service members
these “Nones” comprise the single, fastest-growing
religious profile on record. Jesuits have a long history of going to the “unchurched”, living among
them, and sharing the faith with any spiritual
pilgrims whom they meet. This, too, seems to
be another good reason to have Jesuit military
chaplains!
78 | in their own words
(6) Finally, the ministry of priests in the military is dedicated to sustaining the spiritual lives of
all Catholics. However, our presence is especially
helpful to those individuals who are discerning a
call to religious life or to the priesthood. Military
personnel are generous people who have a mind-set
of service. Hence, transitioning from the Armed
Services to a life of dedicated service within the
church is not all that dramatic or even uncommon.
One of my former shipmates is now a cloistered
nun in Colorado. Six men with whom I once served
are either currently preparing for ordination to the
priesthood or are already serving in various dioceses or religious orders throughout the United States.
One of them even became a Jesuit! Just last month,
at that other college whose name I did not mention
earlier, I ceremonially commissioned a Jesuit scholastic (or seminarian) as a Navy Chaplain Candidate. He is presently a student here at the School
of Theology and Ministry and he hopes to serve
on active duty once he has completed his Jesuit
training. That will be about seven years from now –
we Jesuits are notoriously slow students!
It is a commonly-accepted statistic that approximately ten percent of priests in the United States
have previously served in the Armed Forces. So, we
know that there are priestly vocations in the ranks.
There definitely are individuals who are considering separating from the military in order to serve
the Church in the priesthood or in religious life.
Having priests in uniform to direct, counsel and
advise these potential vocations is critical to their
spiritual well-being. Meeting that need is certainly
something that we Jesuits can do well, along with
the many other, fine diocesan and religious order
priests who are currently serving as chaplains.
So, in closing, let me say that I firmly believe
that the military chaplaincy offers a very suitable
venue in which Jesuit priests can and should be
present. As a Church, we have an obligation to
�chapter 4 | to love and serve
provide pastoral care and sacramental ministry to
those in uniform. As Jesuits, we have a spirituality
and a perspective on ministry which prepare us well
to serve in these extraordinary circumstances. I was
very pleased and proud to have served as a Navy
chaplain. And, although that ministry required me
to live alone for twenty-three years, I always felt very
much a part of my Jesuit community, no matter
where in the world I happened to be. Thanks to
my Jesuit superiors who consistently and enthusiastically reaffirmed this assignment, I was richly
blessed in ways that I could never have imagined.
I am very grateful to our Jesuit Provincials who
are mindful of the spiritual needs of our men and
women in uniform. Despite the increasing shortages of manpower in our own institutions and apostolates, they have generously provided Jesuit priests
who supply pastoral care for those in the military.
Currently we have two Jesuits on active duty in the
Navy, one in the Air Force, and one in the Army.
There are also two Jesuits serving in the Air Force
Reserve, one each in the Army Reserve or National
Guard, and one in the Navy Reserve. The latter is
Bishop Michael Barber, who is the new Ordinary of
the Diocese of Oakland, CA. Yes, a Jesuit, Bishop,
Navy Chaplain!
In appreciation of the ministry of these Jesuit
priests, I leave with you with these words of Fleet
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz:
“By his patient, sympathetic labors with men
day in, day out, and through many a night, every
Chaplain I know contributed immeasurably to the
moral courage of our fighting men. None of this
effort appears in the statistics. Most of it was necessarily secret between pastor and his confidant. It is
for that toil in the cause both of God and country
that I honor the Chaplain most.”
Ladies and gentlemen, please pray for the
234 priests who are currently on active duty in the
Armed Services. They labor every day in the face of
tremendous challenges and ever-increasing, urgent
pastoral concerns.
Please pray also for our Wounded Warriors who
struggle each day with the burdens of frail health
and physical challenges and limitations. They have
sacrificed much of themselves for our nation. In
every way possible we need to support them, and
their families and friends who provide them with
assistance on a daily basis.
Today our nation pauses to remember all who
have served in the Armed Forces of the United
States. These veterans – you veterans – have earned
our admiration and profound gratitude for your
singular selflessness and devotion to duty. We
can never thank you enough, but may our words
and our presence here this morning stand in
testimony of our appreciation for your generous
and courageous service.
Thank you, and God bless you all!
Robert L. Keane, S.J., 201320
20 Robert L. Keane, S.J., “Veterans Day Remembrance Remarks,” Thirteenth Annual Veterans Remembrance Ceremony,
Boston College, November 11, 2013.
79 | in their own words
�to love and serve
Afterword
During World War II between December 1941 and 1945 some 16 million Americans served
in the Armed Forces. Of these 416,000 gave their lives as the United States waged war in
the European and Pacific theaters. More than 8,000 Chaplains of all denominations served
side by side with the men and women in this deadliest military conflict in history.
“�
T
hey held religious services for soldiers
and sailors and preached to them.
They counseled and advised those
who sought help. They were everywhere they
deemed their presence to be necessary – in battle, that meant with the combat troops, and there
the chaplain often acted above and beyond the call
of duty. Under hostile fire, they risked their lives.
(Seventy Catholic Chaplains died in World War
II.) They sought the wounded, the dying, and the
dead who lay exposed and helpless. They succored
them, rescued them, brought them back to medical aid stations, and prayed over them. They buried
21
bodies and wrote to the families of the deceased.”
“In combat, every chaplain experienced the same
terrors – the threat of sudden annihilation or severe
injury, the death of one’s closest companions – the
same crushing burden of labor, and hardships of
weather and terrain. At the same time, chaplains
who remained in the United States during all of
the war (many of whom resented having to stay at
home while ‘the boys’ were suffering overseas) suf22
fered boredom and frustration.”
Although but a small percentage of the total number of Chaplains, the records of military
service, the citations and awards, and the inspiring
stories of New England Province Jesuits recounted
here capture the shared experience of the whole and
remind us that we must not forget with the passage
of time the sacrifices they, together with millions of
their fellow Americans, so generously made to keep
our Nation free.
21 Donald F. Crosby, Battlefield Chaplains. (Lawrence, KS, University of Kansas Press, 1994), xi-xii.
22 Ibid., xxiv.
80 | afterword
�to love and serve love and serve
appendices | to
Appendices
n
New England Province Military Chaplains, 1918–2014
n
New England Province Military Chaplains, Number by Year, 1942–2014
n
New England Province Military Chaplains, Post World War II
81 | appendices
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, 1918 – 2014
STATUS
AS OF
NAME
RANK
BRANCH
YEARS
AWARDS
Barry, John L.
Major
Army
1945–1946
1951–1970
Bronze Star, Purple Heart
Bonn, John L.
Lieutenant
Navy
1943–1946
Boylan, Bernard R.
Lieutenant
Navy
1943–1946
Brennan, Thomas A.
Captain
Army
1945–1946
Brock, Laurence M.
Lieutenant
Colonel
Army
1941–1946
Burke, William J.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1975–1984
Died
1989
Carroll, Anthony G.
Major
Army
1940–1946
Left SJ
1950
Clancy, John L.
Major
Army
1937–1946
Died
1984
Cleary, Hebert J.
Lieutenant
Navy
1970
Living
Coleman, Jeremiah F.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
1951–1952
Died
1961
Connors, J. Bryan
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1970
Curran, Joseph P.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Left SJ
1959
DeStefano, Neal J.
Lieutenant
Commander
Marines
1987–1997
Left SJ
1998
Devlin, John F.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1981
82 | appendices
2014
Died
1987
Died
1975
Navy and
Marine Corps Medal
Died
1978
Died
1967
Legion of Merit
Died
1989
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, 1918 – 2014 (cont)
STATUS
AS OF
NAME
RANK
BRANCH
YEARS
AWARDS
Dolan, James J.
Major
Army
1940–1946
Bronze Star
Doody, Michael J.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1988
Duffy, William J.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1998
Dugan, John J.
Major
Army
1936–1946
1948–1953
Dunn, Raymond V.
Lieutenant
Navy
1966
Left SJ
2001
Farrelly, Peter T.
First
Lieutenant
Army
1957–1977
Died
1999
Fay, Thomas A.
Lieutenant
Commander
Merchant
Marine
1942–1945
Died
1969
Fay, Thomas P.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
1948–1949
Finnegan, Bernard J.
Commander
Navy
1945–1946
1950–1957
Died
1979
Foley, John P.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1995
Gallagher, Frederick A.
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1964
Geary, James F.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1980
Hennessey, Thomas P.
Lieutenant
Colonel
Army
1943–1948
1951–1968
Howard, Edward F.
Captain
Army
1969–1971
83 | appendices
Bronze Star, Army
Commendation Ribbon
Benemerenti Medal
Bronze Star
2014
Died
1952
Died
1964
Died
1988
Died
1978
Living
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, 1918 – 2014 (cont)
RANK
BRANCH
YEARS
Hurld, John L.
Captain
Army
1952–1970
Died
1970
Huss, Harry L.
Captain
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1976
Keane, Robert L.
Captain
Navy
1990–2012
Kelleher, John J.
Majot
Army
1944–1964
Died
1964
Kenealy, William J.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1943–1946
Died
1974
Kennedy, Walter E.
Major
Army
1944–1946
Died
1966
King, George A.
Major
Army
1942–1946
Died
1965
Leonard, William J.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
2000
Long, John J.
Lieutenant
Colonel
Army
1942–1946
1947–1956
Died
1964
Lynch, Daniel J.
Brigadier
General
Army
1918–1919
1941–1942
Lyons, John F.
Captain
Army
1944–1947
Left SJ
1952
MacDonald, Francis J.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1979
MacLeod, Harry C.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Left SJ
1951
McCauley, Leo P.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1943–1946
Died
1993
84 | appendices
AWARDS
STATUS
AS OF
NAME
Navy Commendation
Medal (4), Meritorious
Service Medal (3)
Purple Heart
2014
Living
Died
1952
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, 1918 – 2014 (cont)
RANK
BRANCH
YEARS
McLaughlin, James D.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1943–1946
Died
1977
Mellett, Robert C.
Captain
Navy
1963–1987
Died
1990
Monahan, John C.
Lieutenant
Navy
2006–
Active
Morgan, Carl H.
Captain
Army
1945–1954
Left SJ
1954
Murphy, Francis J.
Captain
Army
1945–1948
Died
1995
Murphy, George M.
Major
Army
1938–1946
Murphy, Paul J.
Lieutenant
Navy
1944–1946
Died
1990
Maritime
Service
1945
Died
1987
O’Brien, Vincent deP.
AWARDS
STATUS
AS OF
NAME
Army Commendation
Medal
Medal of Honor,
Purple Heart
2014
Died
1971
Died
1964
O’Callahan, Joseph T.
Commander
Navy
1940–1946
O’Connor, Daniel F.X.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1958
O’Keefe, Leo P.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1991
Passero, Ernest F.
Commander
Navy
1974–1992
Reardon, Charles J.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
85 | appendices
Navy Commendation
Medal (2), Navy and
Marine Overseas Ribbon
Living
Died
1991
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, 1918 – 2014 (cont)
RANK
BRANCH
YEARS
Roddy, Charles M.
Captain
Army
1943–1946
Died
1967
Rooney, Richard L.
Captain
Army
1944–1946
Died
1977
Ryan, Daniel F.
Captain
Army
1943–1946
Died
1970
St. John, John D.
Colonel
Army
Air Force
1942–1946
1949–1965
Shanahan, Joseph P.
Lieutenant
Navy
1944–1946
Shanahan, Thomas A.
Lieutenant
Colonel
Army
1942–1946
Shea, Richard G.
Captain
Major
Army
Air Force
1942–1946
1951–1956
Sheridan, Robert E.
Major
Army
1942–1946
Smith, Lawrence C.
Lieutenant
Commander
Marines
1989–2003
Living
Stinson, William M.
First Lieutenant
Army
1918–1919
Died
1935
Stockman, Harold V.
Lieutenant
Commander
Navy
1943–1948
Died
1962
Sullivan, Francis V.
Commander
Navy
1942–1946
Died
1972
Travers, David O.
Commander
Navy
1977–1996
Living
86 | appendices
AWARDS
STATUS
AS OF
NAME
Bronze Star
Air Force
Commendation
Medal (2)
2014
Died
1992
Left SJ
1950
Bronze Str
Died
1963
Died
1984
Army Commendation
Medal
Died
1978
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, number by year
YEAR
NUMBER
YEAR
NUMBER
1942
8
1957
6
1943
21
1958
6
1944
32
1959
6
1945
49
1960
7
1946
54
1961
6
1947
7
1962
7
1948
6
1963
7
1949
6
1964
7
1950
6
1965
6
1951
10
1966
5
1952
11
1967
5
1953
9
1968
5
1954
9
1969
5
1955
8
1970
3
1956
6
1971
2
87 | appendices
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, number by year (cont)
YEAR
NUMBER
YEAR
NUMBER
1972
2
1987
3
1973
3
1988
4
1974
3
1989
5
1975
4
1990
5
1976
5
1991
5
1977
4
1992
4
1978
3
1993
4
1979
4
1994
3
1980
4
1995
4
1981
4
1996
3
1982
4
1997
2
1983
4
1998
2
1984
3
1999
2
1985
3
2000
1
1986
4
2001
1
88 | appendices
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, number by year (cont)
YEAR
NUMBER
YEAR
NUMBER
2002
1
2009
2
2003
1
2010
2
2004
1
2011
2
2005
2
2012
1
2006
2
2013
1
2007
2
2014
1
2008
2
89 | appendices
�appendices | to love and serve
new england province military chaplains, post world war II
CHAPLAIN
NUMBER OF
YEARS SERVED
John J. Kelleher, S.J. (Army)*
1944–1964
John D. St. John, S.J. (Air Force)*
1949–1965
Bernard J. Finnegan, S.J. (Navy)*
1950–1957, 1961, 1965
John L. Barry, S.J. (Army)*
1951–1970
Thomas P. Hennessey, S.J. (Army)*
1951–1968
John L. Hurld, S.J. (Army)
1952–1970
Peter T. Farrelly, S.J. (Army)
1957–1977
Robert C. Mellett, S.J. (Navy)
1963–1987
Raymond V. Dunn, S.J. (Navy)
1966
Edward F. Howard, S.J. (Army)
1969–1971
Herbert J. Cleary, S.J. (Navy)
1970
Ernest F. Passero, S.J. (Navy)
1974–1992
William J. Burke, S.J. (Navy)
1975–1984
David O. Travers, S.J. (Navy)
1977–1996
Neal J. DeStefano, S.J. (Marines)
1987–1997
Lawrence C. Smith, S.J. (Marines)
1989–2000
Robert L. Keane, S.J. (Navy)
1989–2012
John C. Monahan, S.J. (Navy)
* Also served in World War II
90 | appendices
2006–
�to love and serve
Photo Gallery
new england jesuit chaplains – world war II,
Weston College, August 21, 1946
Photo:
Archives of the Society of Jesus of New England, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, MA
Top Row:
ARMY: John F. Devlin (Captain), Walter E. Kennedy (Captain), Anthony G. Carroll (Major), Harry L. Huss (Major),
Charles J. Reardon (Captain), Thomas A. Brennan (Captain), William J. Duffy (Captain), John J. Long (Lt. Col.)
rd
3 Row:
nd
ARMY: George A. King (Major), Robert E. Sheridan (Captain), Daniel R. Ryan (Captain), Thomas P. Fay (Captain),
Thomas A. Shanahan (Lt. Col.) , John L. Clancy (Major), Leo P. O’Keefe (Captain), John L. Barry (Captain), J. Bryan
Connors (Captain), Thomas P. Hennessey (Captain)
2 Row:
NAVY: Frederick A. Gallagher (Captain), Francis J. MacDonald (Lt. Cmdr.), Joseph P. Shanahan (Lieut.), Leo P. McCauley (Lt. Cmdr.), Daniel F.X. O’Connor (Lt. Cmdr.), William J. Kenealy (Lt. Comdr.), Bernard R. Boylan (Lieut.),
Bernard J. Finnegan (Lieut.), Paul J. Murphy (Lieut.), John P. Foley (Lt. Comdr.), James D. McLaughlin (Lt. Comdr.),
Vincent de Paul O’Brien (Lieut.), John L. Bonn (Lieut.), Michael J. Doody (Lt. Comdr.), Francis V. Sullivan (Cmdr.)
front Row:
ARMY: John J. Dugan (Lt. Col.), Richard G. Shea (Captain), Laurence M. Brock (Major), Francis J.Murphy (Captain),
Daniel J. Lynch(Colonel), Fr. Provincial John J. McEleney, James J. Dolan (Major), James F. Geary (Captain), Jeremiah
F. Coleman (Captain), Carl H. Morgan (Captain), William J. Leonard (Captain)
absent:
Joseph P. Curran (Captain), Thomas A. Fay (Lt. Cmdr.), John J. Kelleher (Lt. Col.), John F. Lyons (Captain), Harry C.
MacLeod (Lt. Cmdr.), George M. Murphy (Major), Joseph T. O’Callahan (Cmdr.), Charles M. Roddy (Captain), Richard L. Rooney (Captain), John D. St. John (Colonel), Harold V. Stockman (Lt. Cmdr.)
91 | photo gallery
�photo gallery | to love and serve
boston college chaplains – world war II
Photo:
Archives of the Society of Jesus of New England, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, MA
seated:
Francis V. Sullivan (Cmdr.), William J. Leonard (Captain), Leo P. McCauley (Lt. Cmdr.), Richard G. Shea (Captain),
William J. Kenealy (Lt. Cmdr.), Daniel J. Lynch (Brig. Gen.), Vincent de P. O’Brien (Lieut.),George A. King (Major)
standing:
Daniel F.X. O’Connor (Lt. Cmdr.), James D. McLaughlin (Lt Cmdr.), Francis J. MacDonald (Lt. Cmdr.), James F.
Geary (Captain), Anthony G. Carroll (Major), Carl H. Morgan (Captain), John L. Bonn (Lieut.), John P. Foley (Cmdr.),
Joseph P. Shanahan (Lieut.)
92 | photo gallery
�photo gallery | to love and serve
holy cross college chaplains – world war II
Photo:
Archives of the Society of Jesus of New England, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, MA
front row: Frederick A. Gallagher (Cmdr.), John F. Devlin (Captain), Joseph T. O’Callahan
(Cmdr.), J. Bryan Connors (Captain),
Michael J. Doody (Lt. Cmdr.)
back row:
John L. Clancy (Major), Paul J. Murphy (Lieut.), Thomas A. Shanahan (Lt. Col.), Bernard J. Finnegan (Cmdr.),
Charles J. Reardon (Captain)
93 | photo gallery
�
Dublin Core
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Title
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Joseph P. Duffy Collection of Digital Works
Subject
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<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85021043.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Catholic Church</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004995.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--20th century</a>
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<a href="https://lccn.loc.gov/n87831774" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Duffy, Joseph P.</a>
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center, St. Louis, Missouri
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Duffy, Joseph P.
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Reproduced with permission of the Northeast Province of the Society of Jesus
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PDF
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eng
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JA-Duffy
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Northeast Province Archive
Type
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Text
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Northeast Province of the Society of Jesus
Abstract
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This collection contains publications edited by Joseph P. Duffy, S.J. regarding histories of New England Province Jesuits.
Date Accepted
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2016-09-06
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3 items
Temporal Coverage
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1939-1945, 1968
Date Created
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2016
Date Modified
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2020-07-21
Text
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Electronic Book
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Title
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To Love and Serve: World War II Chaplains of the New England Province of Jesuits
Subject
The topic of the resource
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85148273.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">World War, 1939-1945</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85148357.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">World War, 1939-1945--Chaplains</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85021043.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Catholic Church</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004995.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--20th century</a>
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<a href="https://lccn.loc.gov/n87831774" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Duffy, Joseph P.</a>
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Contributor
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Joseph P. Duffy
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Joseph P. Duffy
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JA-Duffy
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PDF
Language
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eng
Identifier
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JA-Duffy-002
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This publication contains biographical narratives, data, and oral histories of New England Province Jesuits who served as Chaplains in the United States military during the Second World War.
Source
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Joseph P. Duffy
Type
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Text
Date Created
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2016
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Joseph P. Duffy
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2016-09-06
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93 pages
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2020-07-21
Biography
Catholic Church
Chaplains
Jesuits
Socity of Jesus
United States Army
United States Military
World War II
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/26015/archive/files/77bd0aca3f574516ed33880e7ef6966b.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=QlSKDtrpYwaV6w7lwcHJ48iI6q-2UXdJpQ2PRW9%7EW3JrqIcmqs821xSLVma7yPCuTVo61M0ilfhSFaDNfg-bnPFAYkgzBLJhggciuwBmg0NXAjOa0Qfsn9icFHGoQbKwpV9zy4KHuRCUXPdSjutUblM0nDI-wwVyg2L3DVX33AFF25KpP87L7Q-J4VzyYe-xWKzdh4NOlxKGdMiODffBZU5AcSiPUhki-T8tTPv0F2pSY2x16Gco11gdRVarPIcK8WcCxijjPBuBs-i8rY0KRC0KAmKmB-WHXI4BXWUmi9S-Ng-qlpHYaWrhrT0ic7NmLdohWDz-jxZaY3a-xZ%7EJxw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
a11a75c6db3b4f22e660c75b9b8aa934
Dublin Core
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Jesuits of the Middle United States
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<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069931.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits</a>
<a href="%20http%3A//id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069941.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--Missions</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004993.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--18th century</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004994.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--19th century</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069938.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--Education</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85085029.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Middle West</a>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
<a href="https://lccn.loc.gov/n85818611" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Garraghan, Gilbert J. (Gilbert Joseph), 1871-1942</a>
Publisher
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Contributor
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Rights
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Reproduced with permission of Loyola University Press.
Format
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PDF
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Identifier
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JA-Garraghan
Source
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BX3708 .G3
Rights Holder
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Loyola University Press.
Abstract
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Authentic story of the Society of Jesus in Illinois; Kansas; Louisiana; Maryland; Missouri; Ohio; and Oregon from 1673. Extensive discussion on the Indian missions of the Kickapoo, Potawatomi, Osage, and Blackfeet, and of Father De Smet and the Oregon missions.
Date Available
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2016-08-30
Extent
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Three volumes
Temporal Coverage
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1938
Text
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Original Format
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hardcover book
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Chapter 21: Literary Work - Relations with the Hierarchy and Sisterhoods
Creator
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<a href="https://lccn.loc.gov/n85818611" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Garraghan, Gilbert J. (Gilbert Joseph), 1871-1942</a>
Publisher
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Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Jesuit Archives & Research Center
Type
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Text
Format
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PDF
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
JA-Garraghan-023
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
BX3708 .G3
Language
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eng
Relation
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JA-Garraghan
Subject
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<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069931.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069941.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--Missions</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004993.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--18th century</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh87004993.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--History--19th century</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85069938.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Jesuits--Education</a>
<a href="http://id.loc.gov/authorities/subjects/sh85085029.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Middle West</a>
Description
An account of the resource
Chapter 21 of Jesuits of the Middle United States by Gilbert Garraghan. Volume II. Pages 103-146.
Rights
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Reproduced with permission of the Central and Southern Province of the Society of Jesus.
Rights Holder
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Loyola University Press.
Date Available
Date (often a range) that the resource became or will become available.
2016-10-7
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
48 page
Date Copyrighted
Date of copyright.
1938
19th century
American History
American religious history
Catholic Church
education
explorers
higher education
History
Jesuit missions
Jesuits
Literary work
Middle West
Missions
Native Americans
Nuns
religious education
Society of Jesus
Women Religious
Writing