Word Celebrity Blog

February 3rd Is Now Known 

As The "Four Chaplains Day"




In November, 1942 four young men "found each other" while attending Chaplain's School at Harvard University.

 They had enough in common to bond them together.  At age 42, George Fox was the "older brother".  The youngest was 30 year old Clark Poling, and less than three years separated him from the other two, Alexander Goode and John Washington.  A common cause brought them together, the desire to render service to their Nation during the critical years of World War II.


























Between the early days of May to late July, the four had entered military service from different areas of the country.  Fox enlisted in the Army from Vermont the same day his 18-year old son Wyatt enlisted in the Marine Corps.  During World War I, though only 17 years old, Fox had convinced the Army he was actually 18 and enlisted as a medical corps assistant. His courage on the battlefield earned him the Silver Star, the Croix de Guerre, and the Purple Heart. When World War II broke out he said, "I've got to go.  I know from experience what our boys are about to face. They need me." This time, however, he didn't enlist to heal the wounds of the body.  As a minister he was joining the Chaplains Corps to heal the wounds of the soul.

Clark V. Poling was from Ohio and pastoring in New York when World War II threatened world freedom.  He determined to enter the Army, but not as a Chaplain.  "I'm not going to hide behind the church in some safe office out of the firing line," he told his father when he informed him of his plans to serve his country.  His father, Reverend Daniel Poling knew something of war, having served as a Chaplain himself during World War I.  He told his son, "Don't you know that chaplains have the highest mortality rate of all?  As a chaplain you'll have the best chance in the world to be killed.  You just can't carry a gun to kill anyone yourself."  With new appreciation for the role of the Chaplains Corps, Clark Poling accepted a commission and followed in his father's footsteps.

John Washington, 34, seemed an unlikely candidate for the priesthood when he was growing up in Newark, N.J. He was Known for his mischievousness and getting into scrapes, he surprised his family by announcing his plans to go into the ministry and enter Seton Hall's seminary program. When America entered the war, he had to lie about his poor eyesight to get into the chaplaincy. A fine singer and musician. Father Washington became the worship service piano player and resident storyteller aboard the Dorchester.

Alexander Goode had also followed the steps of his father in ministry.  His first years of service were in Marion, Indiana; then he moved on to York, Pennsylvania.  While studying and preparing to minister to the needs of others, "Alex" had joined the National Guard.  Ten months before Pearl Harbor he sought an assignment in the Navy's Chaplains Corps, but wasn't initially accepted.  When war was declared, he wanted more than ever to serve the needs of those who went in harm's way to defend freedom and human dignity. He chose to do so as a U.S. Army Chaplain.

Upon meeting at the Chaplains' school, the four men quickly became friends.  One of Clark Poling's cousins later said, "They were all very sociable guys, who seemed to have initiated interfaith activities even before the war.  They hit it off well at chaplains' school.  Sharing their faith was not just a first-time deal for them.  They were really very close.  They had prayed together a number of times before that final crisis." - (Reverend David Poling)

The observation pointed out by Clark's cousin is of note, for the men of whom he spoke were unique.  Their close bond might easily have marked them as "The Four Chaplains" long before a fateful night three months after they first met,  when their actions would forever make the title synonymous with the names of George
L. Fox, Alexander D. Goode, Clark V. Poling, and John P. Washington.
























The Four Chaplains were four United States Army chaplains. They held the rank of Lieutenant,


There was one major difference in these four brave men: George L. Fox was a Methodist Minister, Clark V. Poling was a Dutch Reformed Minister, John P. Washington was a Catholic Priest, and Alexander D. Goode was a Jewish Rabbi

In a world where differences have all too often created conflict and separated brothers, the Four Chaplains found a special kind of unity, and in that unity they found strength.  Despite the differences, they became "brothers" for they had one unseen characteristic in common that overshadowed everything else.  They were brothers because: They All Four Shared the same "Father"!




















The U.S.A.T. Dorchester was an aging, luxury coastal liner that was no longer luxurious.  In the nearly four years from December 7, 1941 to September 2, 1945 more than 16 million American men and women were called upon to defend human dignity and freedom on two fronts, in Europe and the Pacific.   Moving so large a force to the battlefields was a monumental effort, and every available ship was being pressed into service.  Some of these were converted into vessels of war, others to carrying critical supplies to the men and women in the field.   The Dorchester was designated to be a transport ship.  All non-critical amenities were removed and cots were crammed into every available space.   The intent was to get as many young fighting men as possible on each voyage.  When the soldiers boarded in New York on January 23, 1943 the Dorchester certainly was filled to capacity.  In addition to the Merchant Marine crew and a few civilians, young soldiers filled every available space.

Most of the men who boarded for the trip were young, frightened soldiers.  Many were going to sea for the first time and suffered sea-sickness for days.  They were packed head to toe below deck, a steaming human sea of fear and uncertainty.  Even if they survived the eventual Atlantic crossing, they had nothing to look forward to, only the prospects of being thrown into the cauldron of war on foreign shores.  They were men in need of a strong shoulder to lean on, a firm voice to encourage them, and a ray of hope in a world of despair.  In their midst moved four men, Army Chaplains, called to put aside their own fears and uncertainties to minister to the needs of others.
 





















On January 23, 1943, the USAT Dorchester left New York harbor bound for Greenland carrying 902 officers, servicemen and civilian workers. With so many men crammed into so small a space, all of them so much in need of the ray of hope Spiritual guidance could afford, differences ceased to be important.  All of the soldiers shared the same level of misery and fear, whether Protestant, Catholic, or Jew.  The title "Rabbi",  "Father", or "Reverend" was of little consequence when a man needed a Chaplain.

The ocean crossing was filled with many long hours of boredom and uncomfort. On Deck, the chilly Arctic winds and cold ocean spray coated the deck of The Dorchester with ice.  Below deck the soldiers' quarters were hot from too many bodies, which were crammed into too small a place. 

The U. S. A. T. Dorchester was escorted by three Coast Guard cutters. On February 2, one of the Coast Guard cutters detected the presence of a submarine but failed to find the submarine’s position. The C.O. of the Dorchester ordered the men to sleep in their clothing, with life jackets close at hand. They were only 150 miles from Greenland and daylight would bring air cover from the American base.

Down in the old converted cruise ship’s stifling hold, four U.S. Army chaplains circulated among the frightened young men, some lying wide-eyed in their bunks, others nervously playing cards or shooting dice.Those chaplains were Lt. George L. Fox, Methodist; Lt. Alexander D. Goode, Jewish; Lt. John P. Washington, Catholic; and Lt. Clark V. Poling, Reformed. Chatting with the troops, the chaplains eased tensions, calmed fears and passed out soda crackers to help alleviate seasickness.




















Early in the morning of February 3, shortly after midnight, an officer aboard the German submarine U2 spotted it. After identifying and targeting the ship, he gave orders to fire. The hit was decisive, striking the ship, far below the water line. The initial blast killed scores of men and seriously wounded many more.

The chaplains were still awake when the torpedo struck. The missile exploded in the boiler room, destroying the electric supply and releasing suffocating clouds of steam and ammonia gas.The tremendous explosion threw soldiers from bunks and the lights went out as the stricken ship listed to starboard, sinking fast.

Others, stunned by the explosion were groping in the darkness. Panic and chaos quickly set in! Men were screaming, others crying or franticly trying to get lifeboats off the ship.

Through the pandemonium, four men spread out among the soldiers, calming the frightened, tending the wounded and guiding the disoriented toward safety. They were four Army chaplains, Lt. George Fox, a Methodist; Lt. Alexander Goode, a Jewish Rabbi; Lt. John Washington, a Roman Catholic Priest; and Lt. Clark Poling, a Dutch Reformed minister.























Quickly and quietly the four chaplains worked to bring calm to the men. As soldiers began to find their way to the deck of the ship, many were still in their underwear, where they were confronted by the cold winds blowing down from the arctic.
Petty Officer John J. Mahoney, reeling from the cold, headed back towards his cabin. "Where are you going?" a voice of calm in the sea of distressed asked? "To get my gloves," Mahoney replied. "Here, take these," said Rabbi Goode as he handed a pair of gloves to the young officer. "I can't take those gloves," Mahoney replied. "Never mind," the Rabbi responded. "I have two pairs." It was only long after that Mahoney realized that the chaplain never intended to leave the ship.

Those not trapped below rushed topside. Amid the shriek of escaping steam and frantic blasts of the ship’s whistle, dazed men stumbled about the dark, crowded decks. Some gripped the rails, too struck with horror to head toward the lifeboats.



















In the chaos around them, life boats floated away before men could board them. Others capsized as panic continued to shadow reason and soldiers loaded the small craft beyond limit. The strength, calm, and organization of the Chaplains had been so critical in the dark hull. Now, on deck, they found that their mission had not been fully accomplished. They organized the effort, directed men to safety, and left them with parting words of encouragement. In little more than twenty minutes, the Dorchester was almost gone. Icy waves broke over the railing, tossing men into the sea, many of them without life jackets. In the last moments of the transport's existence, the Chaplains were too occupied opening lockers to pass out life jackets to note the threat to their own lives.



























The four chaplains quickly moved among the bewildered men, calming them, directing them to life rafts, urging them to escape the doomed ship. Many had forgotten their life jackets. The chaplains located a supply in a deck locker and passed them out. It was then that Engineer Grady Clark witnessed an astonishing sight. When there were no more lifejackets in the storage room, the chaplains simultaneously removed theirs and gave them to four frightened young men. When giving their life jackets, Rabbi Goode did not call out for a Jew; Father Washington did not call out for a Catholic; nor did Fox or Poling call out for a Protestant. They simply gave their life jackets to the next man in line. Together they sacrificed their last shred of hope for survival, to insure the survival of other men.... most of them total strangers. Then time ran out. The Chaplains had done all they could for those who would survive, and nothing more could be done for the remaining...including themselves. One survivor would later call it "It was the finest thing I have seen or hope to see this side of heaven."



















Somehow, these four men, who would never leave the Dorchester alive, guided the frightened soldiers to their only hope of safety from the rapidly sinking transport. They spoke calm words of encouragement and comfort within the confines of an unimaginable hell. Wounded and dying soldiers were ushered into eternity to the sounds of comforting words from men of God more intent on the needs of others, than in their own safety and survival. Somehow, by their valiant efforts, the Chaplains succeeded in getting many of the soldiers out of the hold and onto the Dorchester's slippery deck.




















Only two of the 14 lifeboats were successfully used in abandoning ship. Soldiers leaped into the icy sea.They clutched the gunwales of the two overloaded lifeboats, clung to doughnut-like rafts or floated alone.Some men were insulated by the thick fuel oil that coated them and floated in lifejackets for eight hours.Those who had been fortunate enough to reach lifeboats struggled to distance themselves from the sinkingship, lest they be pulled beneath the ocean swells by the chasm created as the transport slipped into awatery grave. Then, amid the screams of pain and horror that permeated the cold dark night, they heard thestrong voices of the Chaplains could also be heard offering prayers and singing hymns.

Of the 920 men who left New York on the U.S.A.T. Dorchester on January 23rd, only 230 were plucked from the icy waters by rescue craft. By the time additional rescue ships arrived "... hundreds of dead bodies were seen floating on the water, kept up by their life jackets."  In addition to the Four Chaplains, 668 other men went to a watery grave with the ship.  Had it not been for the Chaplains, the number of dead would certainly been much higher.






















"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.
Before boarding the Dorchester back in January, Chaplain Poling had asked his father to pray for him, "Not for my safe return, that wouldn't be fair. Just pray that I shall do my duty... never be a coward... and have the strength, courage and understanding of men. Just pray that I shall be adequate."

Although the Distinguished Service Cross and Purple Heart were later awarded posthumously, Congress wished to confer the Medal of Honor but was blocked by the stringent requirements which required heroism performed under fire. So a posthumous Special Medal for Heroism, The Four Chaplains' Medal, was authorized by Congress and awarded by the President on January 18, 1961.


























President Truman went up to Philadelphia to speak at the opening of a $300,000, all-faiths chapel dedicated to their memory. The President was escorted by Dr. Daniel A. Poling, chaplain of the chapel and father of one of the heroic four.* His voice echoing through the limestone archways, Harry Truman spoke with unconcealed emotion: "Those four chaplains obeyed the Divine Commandment that men should love one another... This is an old faith in our country. It is shared by all our churches and all our denominations... The unity of our country comes from this fact..."

















The Dorchester went down 27 minutes after the first torpedo struck, in a rumble of steam; some 600 men were lost, but the heroic chaplains had helped save over 200. In it's death throes it reached out to claim any survivors nearby, taking with it to its grave the four ministers of different faiths who learned to find strength in their diversity by focusing on the Father they shared.   On that day, they Made their "Father" very proud!



















On May 28, 1948 the United States Postal Service issued a special stamp to commemorate the brotherhood, service, and sacrifice of the Four Chaplains. 



 

On July 14, 1960 by Act of Congress (Public Law 86-656, 86th Congress), the United States Congress authorized the "Four Chaplains Medal".  The Star of David, Tablets of Moses, and Christian Cross are shown in relief on the back of the medal, along with the inscribed names of all four heroic Chaplains.

On January 18, 1961, Secretary of the Army Wilbur M. Brucker presented the award posthumously to the families of the Four Chaplains at Fort Myer, Virginia. 

It was never given before and will never be given again.



















Ernie Heaton, 87, of Florida, was the guest speaker at the 36th annual Four Chaplains Memorial Service sponsored by Murray-Reynolds American Legion Post 76 and Auxiliary Unit 76 at the town recreation center.

Heaton made history come alive when he gave a riveting account of the last hours on the ship.

He was sitting on his bed, just about to untie a shoe, when “all of the sudden there was a big bang. The German torpedo hit the side of the ship. It knocked out the main engine room, the power, everything was absolutely dark.”

Heaton, then a private in the Army Air Forces, had to report to his station. He told of the terrifying time in the water before he was rescued by a Coast Guard cutter 9½ hours later.

Looking back on it, Ernie Heaton truly believes he was meant to meet the four military chaplains who gave up their lives so others could live when the USAT Dorchester sank in the North Atlantic.


Three months earlier, the chaplains engaged him in conversation on a street corner at a base in Attleboro, Mass. They asked him where he was from and about his family. Heaton then told his buddies he couldn’t believe he had talked to the four officers. A short time later, his friends walked past the corner, but the chaplains — the Revs. George L. Fox, Clark V. Poling, Johnny P. Washington and Rabbi Alexander D. Goode — weren’t there.

Their paths crossed a few more times, and they always called out to Heaton as “that kid from West Virginia.” To this day, Heaton wonders what he possibly could have said for the chaplains to remember him.

But these days, he is carrying on their message of service before self when he and Larry Wapnick, also of Florida, speak to students about the four chaplains, and the men’s goal of building a monument in their honor in Sebastian, Fla.

The chaplains gave their lifejackets away so others could live. Of the 902 on board, there were 230 survivors. Heaton and a man from New York are the only ones still alive.

Ernie Heaton was brought to North Haven through donations raised by state Sen. Leonard A. Fasano, R-North Haven, state Rep. Steve Fontana and First Selectman Michael Freda. They presented Heaton with a $4,000 check for the monument.

Heaton said the four chaplains ceremony Wednesday night was the best he had ever attended.