The Immortal Chaplains

Brethren, perhaps you’ve heard of them. The Four Chaplains, also sometimes referred to as the "Immortal Chaplains," were four United States Army chaplains who gave their lives to save other civilian and military personnel during the sinking of the troop ship USAT Dorchester during World War II. They helped other soldiers board lifeboats and gave up their own life jackets when the supply ran out. The chaplains joined arms, said prayers, and sang hymns as they went down with the ship.

The four men were relatively new chaplains, who all held the rank of lieutenant. They included Methodist Reverend George L. Fox, Rabbi Alexander D. Goode, Roman Catholic Priest Father John P. Washington and Reformed Church in America Reverend Clark V. Poling. Their backgrounds, personalities, and faiths were different, although Goode, Poling and Washington had all served as leaders in the Boy Scouts of America.[1] They would meet at the Army Chaplains School at Harvard University, where they would prepare for assignments in the European theater, sailing onboard USAT Dorchester to report to their new assignments

The Dorchester left New York on January 23, 1943, en route to Greenland, carrying the four chaplains and approximately 900 others, as part of a convoy of three ships (SG-19 convoy). Most of the military personnel were not told the ship's ultimate destination. The convoy was escorted by Coast Guard Cutters Tampa, Escanaba and Comanche.[10]

The ship's Captain, Hans J. Danielsen, had been alerted that Coast Guard sonar had detected a submarine. Because German U-boats were monitoring sea lanes and had attacked and sunk ships earlier during the war, Captain Danielsen had the ship's crew on a state of high alert even before he received that information, ordering the men to sleep in their clothing and keep their life jackets on. "Many soldiers sleeping deep in the ship's hold disregarded the order because of the engine's heat. Others ignored it because the life jackets were uncomfortable."[8]

During the early morning hours of February 3, 1943, at 12:55am, the vessel was torpedoed by the German submarine U-223 off Newfoundland in the North Atlantic.[11]

The torpedo knocked out the Dorchester's electrical system, leaving the ship dark. Panic set in among the men on board, many of them trapped below decks. The chaplains sought to calm the men and organize an orderly evacuation of the ship, and helped guide wounded men to safety. As life jackets were passed out to the men, the supply ran out before each man had one. The chaplains removed their own life jackets and gave them to others. They helped as many men as they could into lifeboats, and then linked arms and, saying prayers and singing hymns, went down with the ship.[11]

As I swam away from the ship, I looked back. The flares had lighted everything. The bow came up high and she slid under. The last thing I saw, the Four Chaplains were up there praying for the safety of the men. They had done everything they could. I did not see them again. They themselves did not have a chance without their life jackets.

—Grady Clark, survivor[12]

According to some reports, survivors could hear different languages mixed in the prayers of the chaplains, including Hebrew Jewish prayers and Latin Catholic prayers.[13]

In all, 230 of the 904 men aboard the ship were rescued. Life jackets offered little protection from hypothermia, which killed most men in the water. The water temperature was 34 °F (1 °C) and the air temperature was 36 °F (2 °C). By the time additional rescue ships arrived, "...hundreds of dead bodies were seen floating on the water, kept up by their life jackets."[14]

(Source: Wikipedia)

Commentary. Let’s think about this a little bit. Who were these crewmen neighbors? At the time to give their lives for their friends, weren’t these disparate Christians and a Jew brothers to each other and sons of the same God? Much to ponder here as we remember their heroism and their sacrifice.

Where to we get these men? Let us commit ourselves to build a nation worthy of their legacy.