Brotherhood has nothing to do with the similarities between men. Even among twins, no two brothers are exactly alike. These differences can create challenges to family harmony, incite jealousy, and lead to sibling rivalries. At the same time, it is these differences that make a family stronger, better-rounded, and best-equipped to face the challenges of life. In times of crisis, when a family pulls together, these differences make it possible to approach a problem from different perspectives and find solutions for the common good. There is strength in diversity, and perhaps a family should rejoice more in the differences between brothers and sisters than in the things they share in common.
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. Reverend 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.
Reverend 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 a new appreciation for the role of the Chaplains Corps, Clark Poling accepted a commission and followed in his father’s footsteps.
Like Clark Poling, Alexander Goode had followed the steps of his own 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 the 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.
One look at the be-speckled, mild-mannered John P. Washington, would have left one with the impression that he was not the sort of man to go to war and become a hero. His love of music and beautiful voice belied the toughness inside. One of nine children in an Irish immigrant family living in the toughest part of Newark, New Jersey, he had learned through sheer determination to hold his own in any fight. By the time he was a teenager, he was the leader of the South Twelfth Street Gang. Then God called him to ministry, returning him to the streets of New Jersey to organize sports teams, play ball with young boys who needed a strong friend to look up to and inspire others with his beautiful hymns of praise and thanksgiving.
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 differences in their backgrounds and personalities could have been easily outweighed by their common calling to ministry, had it not been for one major difference: Reverend Fox was a Methodist Minister, Reverend Poling was a Dutch Reformed Minister, Father Washington was a Catholic Priest, and Rabbi Goode was Jewish.
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 all four shared the same father.
On January 23, 1943, the USAT Dorchester left New York harbor bound for Greenland carrying 902 officers, servicemen and civilian workers. The Dorchester was escorted by three Coast Guard cutters. On February 2, one of the cutters detected the presence of a submarine but failed to find the submarines position. They were only 150 miles from Greenland and daylight would bring air cover from the American base.
Most of the men down in the hold were in the 18 to 20 year old range. Considering that this was just 14 months after the atrocity of Pearl Harbor, it was likely that several of these boys had graduated High School in May and then reported for induction into the military. Most of them had never been more than fifty miles from home and here they were in a ship on the ocean headed for Europe. Also they have spent the last two weeks in the hold of a ship with nothing to do but complain and answer chow call three times a day.
The C.O. of the Dorchester had ordered the men to sleep in their clothing, with life jackets close at hand. But as there weren’t any NCOs or Officers to enforce it many of the young men ignored it because like most boys their age they still thought they were invincible.
Down in the old converted cruise ships 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. Chatting with the troops, the chaplains tried to eased tensions, calmed fears and they passed out soda crackers to alleviate seasickness. Remember these 500+ men have already spent nearly two weeks in the hold of this ship.
Early in the morning of February 3 the chaplains were still up just before 1:00 AM 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.
Those not trapped below rushed topside. Amid the shriek of escaping steam and frantic blasts of the ships whistle, dazed men stumbled about the dark, crowded decks. Some gripped the rails, too struck with horror to head toward the lifeboats.
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. When the bin was empty they pulled off their own and made others put them on.
Only two of the 14 lifeboats were successfully launched in abandoning ship. Three of them were damaged in the explosion and several others had the launch mechanism iced over. Soldiers leaped into the icy sea. Some 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 life jackets for up to eight hours.
The four chaplains remained on the ships slanted aft deck, standing together, arms linked, heads bowed in prayer, as the Dorchester slipped beneath the waves. Their sacrifice would be remembered as one of the most touching stories of the Second World War, and their legacy continues to this day.
In 1957,The American Legion, at their 39th National Convention in Atlantic City, passed a resolution asking Congress to award the Medal of Honorto the Four Chaplains; however, criteria for the Medal of Honor includes “combat with the enemy.” The special medal — intended to have the same weight and importance as the Medal of Honor — was approved by the Senate in 1958, and by the House in 1960. In 2006, The American Legion, at their 88th National Convention in Salt Lake City, passed a new resolution in support of awarding this new Medal of Honor to the Four Chaplains.
So we raise her up every morning
And we bring her down slow every night
We don’t let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right
On second thought
I do like to brag Because I’m mighty proud of
That Ragged Old Flag
The job is never complete. Freedom is not free. It must be earned again in each generation.
God bless those that have gone before and those that are presently serving in our armed forces.
