Remembering the Four Immortal Chaplains
by Stan Lowe, Chairman (retired), Wyoming Veterans’ Commission
“Do not pray for my safe return, but that I do my duty,” Chaplain Clark V. Poling asked of his family before leaving to embark, with three other chaplains, on the U.S. Merchant Marine troopship S.S. Dorchester, sunk 150 miles off Greenland by German submarine U-223 on Feb. 3, 1943.
Poling’s words, which will ring through the ages, omnisciently prophesied the heroism exemplified that terror-filled night by the four U.S. Army Chaplains George L. Fox (Methodist), Alexander D. Goode (Jewish), John P. Washington (Roman Catholic) and him (Dutch Reformed), which lionized them as the Four Immortal Chaplains.
Before the 1 a.m. attack, Dorchester, a converted luxury liner, which was carrying 904 souls, more than double its peacetime contingent of passengers and crew, was in convoy plowing through the North Atlantic’s freezing seas in an area called Torpedo Junction, where many ships had been sunk.
Fearful rumors swept the ship. The four chaplains went about their work reading scriptures to and praying with the troubled men, even using music and laughter.
One of the convoy cutters, unable to get a fix on a submarine it had detected, continued its routine sweeps in search of it.
Suddenly, a faint thud was heard, followed by a huge concussion that made the ship shudder. The torpedo opened the hull into the engine room, which flooded rapidly. The ship lost way immediately, its engines destroyed by the blast.
The convoy, unaware of the troopship’s plight, sailed on. The Dorchester would sink in about 65 minutes.
The ship, without power or radio, listed to starboard. Ammonia and oil were everywhere in the fast-sinking ship and upon the sea.
Dazed men, half-naked because of intense heat from the ship’s engine room, and without life jackets, struggled up to the deck.
Despite earlier frequent drills and alerts, panic infected the men as overcrowded lifeboats overturned and rafts drifted off empty.
Only two of the ship’s 14 life boats were launched successfully.
The four chaplains were among the first on deck. In the midst of this chaos, their calm courage and action saved many lives. They guided frightened men to lifeboats, handed out life jackets and helped others over the side to the lifeboats.
Survivors remember their comforting voices raised in prayer as they handed out life jackets to the men. When there were no more, they gave their own to four GIs.
Many remember that gut-wrenching sight of those four chaplains as they stood knee deep in water on that sinking ship’s slanting deck with arms linked and voices raised in unified prayer for the men.
The stern of the ship raised high in the water and then suddenly slipped forward beneath the icy waters.
It has been rightly said that courage takes many forms. Heroism is often celebrated with parades, monuments and film, but there is also a quiet courage, compelled by circumstances and without fanfare.
Of the 904 men aboard (130 Merchant Marine, 23 Navy Armed Guard, 751 passengers: mostly U.S. Army, some civilian workers, Danish citizens, and Coast Guard), 675 died.
Only 229 survived, making it the third largest U.S. maritime tragedy in WWII.
The ship’s complement losses were heavy: the captain, many merchant marine officers and mariners, Navy Armed Guard Sailors that manned the ship’s guns and messaging lights, and two U.S. Merchant Marine Academy Cadet-Midshipmen Edward J. Gavin (engine) and Samuel T. Tyler (deck) who are among the 142 cadets lost in WWII memorialized by the academy’s battle flag, the only federal academy of the five authorized to have one.
Many honors have been bestowed to commemorate the Four Immortal Chaplains: the Chapel of Four Chaplains in Philadelphia; a congressional Special Medal of Heroism awarded posthumously; a book, “Sea of Glory,” written by Ken Wales and David Poling; a major movie; “These Immortal Chaplains” postage stamps; and a special day, “Four Chaplains Sunday,” held the first Sunday of February, which the American Legion Auxiliary observes each year.