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How are Chaplains perceived by other CF members?
- Thread starter Humphrey
- Start date
- Sometimes Padre's need to vent, too. Imagine devoting your life to a Christian calling, only to be told that government policy forbids you to mention the words "Jesus" or "Christ" during a Ramp Ceremony. Now, logic would dictate that the religious bent of the Ramp Ceremony be dictated by the religion on the I Discs of the KIA. But, no, that is not government policy.
- The kicker is, we may be playing into the propaganda hands of our enemy. The enemy like to paint us as Infidels who side with the Zionists. If we leave Jesus Christ out of a Christian's Ramp Ceremony... well, once you take Christ out of Christianity, you are left with, what? Judaism, that's what. So... perhaps it ain't easy being a modern Padre in the CF.
- The kicker is, we may be playing into the propaganda hands of our enemy. The enemy like to paint us as Infidels who side with the Zionists. If we leave Jesus Christ out of a Christian's Ramp Ceremony... well, once you take Christ out of Christianity, you are left with, what? Judaism, that's what. So... perhaps it ain't easy being a modern Padre in the CF.
- Reaction score
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As a CF Member, and an Atheist, I have an enormous amount of time for the padre corps. I have met dozens of padres in my travels, and have never once felt preached to, or any attempt at religious coercion of any kind. I don't think I've ever heard them mention the word "God" to me, outside of actual church services, in which they're very inclusive of all beliefs INCLUDING atheism. Whenever I have needed to speak to a padre, they are always extremely sympathetic, caring to a fault and devoted to the troops, and to their job. They are always willing to go above and beyond to help out the troops, and use their unique position well to help those that need it.
I have a copy of "The God Delusion" on my bedside table right now, and Bill Maher's "Religulous" in my DVD collection, but would not hesitate for even a moment to speak with a padre when the need arose. I have dealt with the social workers in the CF and have never met the same kindness, caring, and genuine desire to help as I have when dealing with padres, and that transcends any petty differences of religious belief. They do their job, they get my respect, period.
I have a copy of "The God Delusion" on my bedside table right now, and Bill Maher's "Religulous" in my DVD collection, but would not hesitate for even a moment to speak with a padre when the need arose. I have dealt with the social workers in the CF and have never met the same kindness, caring, and genuine desire to help as I have when dealing with padres, and that transcends any petty differences of religious belief. They do their job, they get my respect, period.
- Reaction score
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From a historical viewpoint and the viewpoint of a chaplain. Padre Horton was the well respected padre of The Royal Winnipeg Rifles. If this posting is too long/out of context, Mods please action.
D DAY, 6 June 1944, EXPERIENCES
BY PADRE ED HORTON
My first recollection of our immediate D Day preparations is standing in a field near Southampton getting rid of all the means of recognition – regimental badges and shoulder flashes etc.
Later we proceeded to embark. It was Friday, June 2. Our ship was a fine liner called the Langiby Castle. Our accommodations were good. We had our meals in the Dining Saloon with tables covered with linen cloths and the ship’s stewards serving us.
One of those with whom I shared a cabin was a young lieutenant of a British Reece Unit. He had dreams of driving through to Berlin on D + 1. I often wondered what happened to him. There was also a naval lieutenant sharing our cabin. He was in charge of the navy lads who manned our landing craft.
According to regular procedure there was an officer called “Officer Commanding Troops” (O.C.Troops). In our case it was a full colonel of the Welsh Guards. He was a typical regular army officer with monocle and all. He had held the same position on ships in earlier landings.
We anchored out in the stream and it was a bit rough. My amusing picture of this officer was one in which he was climbing up over the side with the spray splashing over him and his monocle firmly fixed in front of his eye.
When I began to plan a church service for the troops he took a very keen and definite interest in all the details. He told me the hymns I should have, among other instructions about the service. When the time came we had a good service on deck with a full attendance. I have a picture of this service.
There were strict rules about smoking. A glowing cigarette and could be seen a great distance away. Touring the ship one evening out O.C.Troops found some sailors smoking on deck. This was definitely against orders. Instead of ordering a non-commissioned officer of the navy to charge them he did it himself and had the sailors put in the brig. The naval officer in charge of these lads who were manning our landing craft was furious. To think that an army officer of the rank of colonel should put sailors in the brig on a ship! Such a situation was outrageous, Queens Regulations were studied minutely. It was a sticky situation for the sailors, as part of the landing force, were technically under command of the O.C. Troops; but they were on a ship. It was finally settled by sentencing the guilty sailors to the time they had spent in the brig before the matter was settled. The dignity and prerogative of all parties was satisfied.
We were to have landed on the Monday, June 5, but it was too rough. We did not know where we were to land until the evening of June 5. Whether we would land June 6 or not was uncertain until the last minute. I have often though of General Eisenhower having to make the extremely difficult decision as to whether we should go in on the Tuesday. I understand that if we hadn’t gone in that day the landing would have had to be put off for a month owing to the tides. I have read of the difficulties of making this decision and the advice he sought, but in the end he had to make the momentous decision alone.
The day of the landing dawned bright and clear. There was a strong wind and the sea was fairly rough. We embarked in our landing craft which were on davits at the side of the ship like lifeboats. They were much the size of lifeboats. We were lowered into the sea and away we went for the shore. What a magnificent sight – ships of all sorts and sizes, planes overhead. As far as the eye could see the amazing armada moved towards the French coast. I wonder how many of us realized the significance of this decisive moment in the world’s history. Our men were calm. There was no evidence of tension or fear. A few were seasick, and we splashed by the spray. Our particular landing was uneventful. We jumped in up it our knees and waded ashore. As we crossed the beach they began to fire at us. I was in the second wave. As we moved along it became evident to me that the white armband with a red cross on it, which was on my arm, was making me an easy mark, so I took it off. I soon came upon one of our lads who I knew well laying on the beach badly wounded. We had been ordered not to stop to help the wounded as it would delay us too much. Others would follow whose duty it would be to care for the wounded. I couldn’t help but stop for a few moments and give him what comfort I could. Later he died. I wrote to his wife and received a very lovely latter in answer to mine.
Once we had gone off the beach and among the houses and stone walls and trees we seemed fairly safe and we moved inland. The first night was uneventful as far as I was concerned.
About the third day (8 Jun 44) we got into real trouble. We were almost surrounded by Hitler Jugend Division. In the night three of our companies were almost wiped out. The Canadian Scottish put in a counter attack the next day. Because of the rough sea they had not been able to land all the support units, and we expected the worst. However it never came. Later when I was in the Occupation Force I was told by a British Intelligence Officer that the attack never came because the S.S. Troops were at loggerheads with the Wehrmacht, who would not give them the gas they needed to put in the attack.
In a few days tings settled down a bit. The men were manning the slit trenches and on guard. They were tired and soon fell asleep. To fall asleep in the face of the enemy was a serious offence. I was called up to see a young lad in a slit trench who wanted to see me. He told me he had fallen asleep and had been charged. He said the commanding officer had told him he would be shot for this offence. He said, “I am only 16. I am too young to be shot”. I told him I was sure the commanding officer had not said he would be shot. What he had likely said was that he could be shot; but he insisted, so I said I would talk to the C.O. about him. It turned out as I had suggested. The C.O. had only said he could be shot. However when I informed the C.O. that he was only 16 years old the C.O. said they would have to do something about that. Within 24 hours he was taken out of the line and sent back to England.
I had been busy burying the men who had been killed. My batman, Seager, was a great help to me in gathering the dead and digging the graves. We had no equipment except shovels. Our instructions were to find suitable places for burial and report the map references. We were to bury as many together as we could. We had no supply of crosses. These came later when we got our jeep. They supplied us with white wooden crosses then. In the meantime Seager and I made the best rough crosses we could out of whatever wood we could find.
One day I was told a young soldier wanted to see me in one of the front line slit trenches. I went up to see him and found him very angry with me. He said I buried his Jewish pal and put a cross over his grave. He was a Jew, too, and he said this was the most insulting thing I could have done to his friend. I told him I was sorry. There was no intention of insulting his dead comrade. It was really more of a marker than a religious symbol, and I asked him what he thought I should have done. He said I should have placed a Star of David over his grave. I told him I had no way of making Stars of David. If he objected to a cross the only thing I could do was place a straight stick over the grave. He said that would be better than a cross. Within a couple of days I was called on to bury this poor lad. I saw to it that he did not have a cross, but a straight stick.
As Padres we were provided with an Order of Burial Service for Protestants, Roman Catholics and Jews. If we could get a Padre whose religious affiliation was different to our own, but the same as the deceased we tried to have such a one perform the burial, but in the heat of battle this was not easy to do. Then we used the Service prescribed for the religious affiliation of the person we were burying. I never met a Jewish Padre until I was in the Army of Occupation in Germany. The rule was that should be a Padre for every 1000 members of a Christian Protestant denomination and one for every 500 Roman Catholics.
One of the sad duties of the Padre was to wander over the battle area after the battle had moved on and search for the dead. In those early days battles were fought through the Normandy grain fields. Many a lad I found lying in a grain field. After a day of this sad activity the boys would come up to me and ask if I had found any trace of their brother, or cousin or special pal. After thorough searching if no trace of a particular fellow was found we presumed he had been taken prisoner.
In our regiment were 3 brothers. Two were often seen together, but the third seemed to be a lone wolf. I rarely saw him with either of his brothers. He and one brother were missing. The remaining brother met me every time I returned from a search. Then as I wandered through the grain fields I came upon these two brothers, together. They were in a crawling position and must have been killed together instantly. It was a comfort to me to find the lone wolf brother not separated from one brother in death.
One day some of our stretcher bearers were shot at when picking up wounded and carrying them on stretchers to the Regimental Aid Post. Our boys were very angry and swore what they would do to the next prisoner they captured. A while later a prisoner was brought in and I wondered what would happen. He was wounded: I watched as one of our boys gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. When it came to individual personal contacts it was hard to carry out threats made in anger, and justified anger, against the enemy in general.
As the Padre I considered the regiment my congregation, and it was my duty and privilege to minister to them in whatever way I found open to me, no matter who they were or what kind of people they were. They were all God’s children and He loved them: I always felt I should be with them to share whatever they had to put up with. One thing I found I could do was take them the mail to them wherever they were. I could always find a way to get to them where they were, and mail from home meant a very great deal to them. It was a great morale builder. The authorities were very good about getting the mail up front.
I always travelled with the Regimental Aid Post. There I could try to comfort the wounded as they were brought in and do any little errands etc. they would like done. I was provided with a jeep equipped with a frame so that I could carry three stretchers. At times I had the privilege of going out and bringing in the wounded.
During our years in England I never favoured regular church parades. There were official and special occasions when they were in order, but ordinarily I felt it was much better to have voluntary services. Our Commanding Officer supported me in this. The result was that attendances at services were not large. Very few attended Communion Services. We were supplied with a Communion Set which I had with me always. The first opportunity I had to hold a service after we landed was when we had a short rest. I arranged a service in the open under the trees. All the boys were there. After the first part of the service I announced a Communion Service. I turned to prepare for it. Not a man moved. I thought they had not understood, so I announced it a second time. Still no movement. Then I realized they all wanted to take communion.
One of the very difficult tasks of the Padre was writing to the next of kin of those who were killed. When the regiment went into a rest period I found myself very busy trying to catch up with this correspondence. I tried to tell those poor fathers and mothers and wives what I could, that might give them comfort.
I believe our Canadian boys were the best soldiers of all. They were brave, they were cheerful, they were honest, they were resourceful, they were loyal, and they were sensitive. Their attitude when they attended a grave side service always impressed me. They were sad, but they were realistic. They presented a noble bearing.
During those early days and on through the whole campaign the lieutenants suffered the worst casualties in proportion to their numbers. One day they brought the body of a young lieutenant in. They said he had gone into his last action saying “It will be my turn this time”. Most of his fellow officers had already been killed or wounded. An attitude of fatalism was not hard to develop. Sometimes there was evidence of senses of religious favouritism. Once when we were moving up two or three fellows argued mildly about who should march beside me. They thought it would be a favoured, and possibly safe, spot because God would give me special protection! As a matter of fact God does not play favourites. I did hear once, that for their number Padres suffered higher casualties than any other unit. I don’t know whether that is true.
A while before D-Day the Padres of the 3rd. Division were sent to a day’s course on finger-printing. We received some good natured kidding about that, but it was worthwhile. The theory was that if we found bodies that could not be identified we could take the finger prints and thus prove their identity. Due to the number of reinforcements coming into our regiments, and the way they were scattered in action we could not know them all. When we were on the Schete we three Protestant Padres of the 7th. Brigade found a body we could not identify. We took his fingerprints with the equipment we had been given and sent it in. Later we were commended for the job we had done and told they were able to identify the man. His identifications had been burned. Knowing how next-of-kin suffer when all the news they ever have is: “Missing, believed killed” we felt it was a worthwhile idea that proved its value. Later when in the Occupation Force in Germany I had occasion to use my fingerprinting equipment again when a man was drowned, and had no identification.
D DAY, 6 June 1944, EXPERIENCES
BY PADRE ED HORTON
My first recollection of our immediate D Day preparations is standing in a field near Southampton getting rid of all the means of recognition – regimental badges and shoulder flashes etc.
Later we proceeded to embark. It was Friday, June 2. Our ship was a fine liner called the Langiby Castle. Our accommodations were good. We had our meals in the Dining Saloon with tables covered with linen cloths and the ship’s stewards serving us.
One of those with whom I shared a cabin was a young lieutenant of a British Reece Unit. He had dreams of driving through to Berlin on D + 1. I often wondered what happened to him. There was also a naval lieutenant sharing our cabin. He was in charge of the navy lads who manned our landing craft.
According to regular procedure there was an officer called “Officer Commanding Troops” (O.C.Troops). In our case it was a full colonel of the Welsh Guards. He was a typical regular army officer with monocle and all. He had held the same position on ships in earlier landings.
We anchored out in the stream and it was a bit rough. My amusing picture of this officer was one in which he was climbing up over the side with the spray splashing over him and his monocle firmly fixed in front of his eye.
When I began to plan a church service for the troops he took a very keen and definite interest in all the details. He told me the hymns I should have, among other instructions about the service. When the time came we had a good service on deck with a full attendance. I have a picture of this service.
There were strict rules about smoking. A glowing cigarette and could be seen a great distance away. Touring the ship one evening out O.C.Troops found some sailors smoking on deck. This was definitely against orders. Instead of ordering a non-commissioned officer of the navy to charge them he did it himself and had the sailors put in the brig. The naval officer in charge of these lads who were manning our landing craft was furious. To think that an army officer of the rank of colonel should put sailors in the brig on a ship! Such a situation was outrageous, Queens Regulations were studied minutely. It was a sticky situation for the sailors, as part of the landing force, were technically under command of the O.C. Troops; but they were on a ship. It was finally settled by sentencing the guilty sailors to the time they had spent in the brig before the matter was settled. The dignity and prerogative of all parties was satisfied.
We were to have landed on the Monday, June 5, but it was too rough. We did not know where we were to land until the evening of June 5. Whether we would land June 6 or not was uncertain until the last minute. I have often though of General Eisenhower having to make the extremely difficult decision as to whether we should go in on the Tuesday. I understand that if we hadn’t gone in that day the landing would have had to be put off for a month owing to the tides. I have read of the difficulties of making this decision and the advice he sought, but in the end he had to make the momentous decision alone.
The day of the landing dawned bright and clear. There was a strong wind and the sea was fairly rough. We embarked in our landing craft which were on davits at the side of the ship like lifeboats. They were much the size of lifeboats. We were lowered into the sea and away we went for the shore. What a magnificent sight – ships of all sorts and sizes, planes overhead. As far as the eye could see the amazing armada moved towards the French coast. I wonder how many of us realized the significance of this decisive moment in the world’s history. Our men were calm. There was no evidence of tension or fear. A few were seasick, and we splashed by the spray. Our particular landing was uneventful. We jumped in up it our knees and waded ashore. As we crossed the beach they began to fire at us. I was in the second wave. As we moved along it became evident to me that the white armband with a red cross on it, which was on my arm, was making me an easy mark, so I took it off. I soon came upon one of our lads who I knew well laying on the beach badly wounded. We had been ordered not to stop to help the wounded as it would delay us too much. Others would follow whose duty it would be to care for the wounded. I couldn’t help but stop for a few moments and give him what comfort I could. Later he died. I wrote to his wife and received a very lovely latter in answer to mine.
Once we had gone off the beach and among the houses and stone walls and trees we seemed fairly safe and we moved inland. The first night was uneventful as far as I was concerned.
About the third day (8 Jun 44) we got into real trouble. We were almost surrounded by Hitler Jugend Division. In the night three of our companies were almost wiped out. The Canadian Scottish put in a counter attack the next day. Because of the rough sea they had not been able to land all the support units, and we expected the worst. However it never came. Later when I was in the Occupation Force I was told by a British Intelligence Officer that the attack never came because the S.S. Troops were at loggerheads with the Wehrmacht, who would not give them the gas they needed to put in the attack.
In a few days tings settled down a bit. The men were manning the slit trenches and on guard. They were tired and soon fell asleep. To fall asleep in the face of the enemy was a serious offence. I was called up to see a young lad in a slit trench who wanted to see me. He told me he had fallen asleep and had been charged. He said the commanding officer had told him he would be shot for this offence. He said, “I am only 16. I am too young to be shot”. I told him I was sure the commanding officer had not said he would be shot. What he had likely said was that he could be shot; but he insisted, so I said I would talk to the C.O. about him. It turned out as I had suggested. The C.O. had only said he could be shot. However when I informed the C.O. that he was only 16 years old the C.O. said they would have to do something about that. Within 24 hours he was taken out of the line and sent back to England.
I had been busy burying the men who had been killed. My batman, Seager, was a great help to me in gathering the dead and digging the graves. We had no equipment except shovels. Our instructions were to find suitable places for burial and report the map references. We were to bury as many together as we could. We had no supply of crosses. These came later when we got our jeep. They supplied us with white wooden crosses then. In the meantime Seager and I made the best rough crosses we could out of whatever wood we could find.
One day I was told a young soldier wanted to see me in one of the front line slit trenches. I went up to see him and found him very angry with me. He said I buried his Jewish pal and put a cross over his grave. He was a Jew, too, and he said this was the most insulting thing I could have done to his friend. I told him I was sorry. There was no intention of insulting his dead comrade. It was really more of a marker than a religious symbol, and I asked him what he thought I should have done. He said I should have placed a Star of David over his grave. I told him I had no way of making Stars of David. If he objected to a cross the only thing I could do was place a straight stick over the grave. He said that would be better than a cross. Within a couple of days I was called on to bury this poor lad. I saw to it that he did not have a cross, but a straight stick.
As Padres we were provided with an Order of Burial Service for Protestants, Roman Catholics and Jews. If we could get a Padre whose religious affiliation was different to our own, but the same as the deceased we tried to have such a one perform the burial, but in the heat of battle this was not easy to do. Then we used the Service prescribed for the religious affiliation of the person we were burying. I never met a Jewish Padre until I was in the Army of Occupation in Germany. The rule was that should be a Padre for every 1000 members of a Christian Protestant denomination and one for every 500 Roman Catholics.
One of the sad duties of the Padre was to wander over the battle area after the battle had moved on and search for the dead. In those early days battles were fought through the Normandy grain fields. Many a lad I found lying in a grain field. After a day of this sad activity the boys would come up to me and ask if I had found any trace of their brother, or cousin or special pal. After thorough searching if no trace of a particular fellow was found we presumed he had been taken prisoner.
In our regiment were 3 brothers. Two were often seen together, but the third seemed to be a lone wolf. I rarely saw him with either of his brothers. He and one brother were missing. The remaining brother met me every time I returned from a search. Then as I wandered through the grain fields I came upon these two brothers, together. They were in a crawling position and must have been killed together instantly. It was a comfort to me to find the lone wolf brother not separated from one brother in death.
One day some of our stretcher bearers were shot at when picking up wounded and carrying them on stretchers to the Regimental Aid Post. Our boys were very angry and swore what they would do to the next prisoner they captured. A while later a prisoner was brought in and I wondered what would happen. He was wounded: I watched as one of our boys gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. When it came to individual personal contacts it was hard to carry out threats made in anger, and justified anger, against the enemy in general.
As the Padre I considered the regiment my congregation, and it was my duty and privilege to minister to them in whatever way I found open to me, no matter who they were or what kind of people they were. They were all God’s children and He loved them: I always felt I should be with them to share whatever they had to put up with. One thing I found I could do was take them the mail to them wherever they were. I could always find a way to get to them where they were, and mail from home meant a very great deal to them. It was a great morale builder. The authorities were very good about getting the mail up front.
I always travelled with the Regimental Aid Post. There I could try to comfort the wounded as they were brought in and do any little errands etc. they would like done. I was provided with a jeep equipped with a frame so that I could carry three stretchers. At times I had the privilege of going out and bringing in the wounded.
During our years in England I never favoured regular church parades. There were official and special occasions when they were in order, but ordinarily I felt it was much better to have voluntary services. Our Commanding Officer supported me in this. The result was that attendances at services were not large. Very few attended Communion Services. We were supplied with a Communion Set which I had with me always. The first opportunity I had to hold a service after we landed was when we had a short rest. I arranged a service in the open under the trees. All the boys were there. After the first part of the service I announced a Communion Service. I turned to prepare for it. Not a man moved. I thought they had not understood, so I announced it a second time. Still no movement. Then I realized they all wanted to take communion.
One of the very difficult tasks of the Padre was writing to the next of kin of those who were killed. When the regiment went into a rest period I found myself very busy trying to catch up with this correspondence. I tried to tell those poor fathers and mothers and wives what I could, that might give them comfort.
I believe our Canadian boys were the best soldiers of all. They were brave, they were cheerful, they were honest, they were resourceful, they were loyal, and they were sensitive. Their attitude when they attended a grave side service always impressed me. They were sad, but they were realistic. They presented a noble bearing.
During those early days and on through the whole campaign the lieutenants suffered the worst casualties in proportion to their numbers. One day they brought the body of a young lieutenant in. They said he had gone into his last action saying “It will be my turn this time”. Most of his fellow officers had already been killed or wounded. An attitude of fatalism was not hard to develop. Sometimes there was evidence of senses of religious favouritism. Once when we were moving up two or three fellows argued mildly about who should march beside me. They thought it would be a favoured, and possibly safe, spot because God would give me special protection! As a matter of fact God does not play favourites. I did hear once, that for their number Padres suffered higher casualties than any other unit. I don’t know whether that is true.
A while before D-Day the Padres of the 3rd. Division were sent to a day’s course on finger-printing. We received some good natured kidding about that, but it was worthwhile. The theory was that if we found bodies that could not be identified we could take the finger prints and thus prove their identity. Due to the number of reinforcements coming into our regiments, and the way they were scattered in action we could not know them all. When we were on the Schete we three Protestant Padres of the 7th. Brigade found a body we could not identify. We took his fingerprints with the equipment we had been given and sent it in. Later we were commended for the job we had done and told they were able to identify the man. His identifications had been burned. Knowing how next-of-kin suffer when all the news they ever have is: “Missing, believed killed” we felt it was a worthwhile idea that proved its value. Later when in the Occupation Force in Germany I had occasion to use my fingerprinting equipment again when a man was drowned, and had no identification.
- Reaction score
- 2
- Points
- 230
I too am not a religeous man, BUT...
I remember and participated at mess dinners where any Diner could stand during the Padre's march as a show of respect.
As BDO at a Base I have called the Padre's on may occaisions (especially during EXTRA's) to get advice or to pass on info of members in need of the Padre's services. Everything from death in the family to emergency cash.
I always open my door to any Padre when I see them, and have numerous padres I think of as friends, male, female and of numerous available religeons. Reserve and Regs. Some people on here know of the 8CH Padre who is tough and nails and drinks as hard as the next man, and swears on occaision. I am sure there are stories.
I once referred to myself as a non practicing Catholic to a Padre who responded..."Oh...so you area a bad person!?" I now say not participant in services.
I remember and participated at mess dinners where any Diner could stand during the Padre's march as a show of respect.
As BDO at a Base I have called the Padre's on may occaisions (especially during EXTRA's) to get advice or to pass on info of members in need of the Padre's services. Everything from death in the family to emergency cash.
I always open my door to any Padre when I see them, and have numerous padres I think of as friends, male, female and of numerous available religeons. Reserve and Regs. Some people on here know of the 8CH Padre who is tough and nails and drinks as hard as the next man, and swears on occaision. I am sure there are stories.
I once referred to myself as a non practicing Catholic to a Padre who responded..."Oh...so you area a bad person!?" I now say not participant in services.
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 210
Roy Harding said:
As I understand it candidates for the prerequiste degree in Divinity receive some sort of overview of all faiths. Furthermore, there is the CF's Religions in Canada guide. A Chaplain, regardless of denomination, addresses the spiritual dimension that resides in anybody who believes in a "supreme being" with a sense of empathy that a clinician such as social worker may not be able to convey.
As one who is not a Christian but has had occasion to experience 2 Chaplains of other faiths (once as a driver for one too) these gentlemen are just that. Humble and sincere "Gentlemen" who treated me with the utmost courtesy and respect and of whom I had no doubt would minister to my needs if called upon and without prosleytizing.
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 260
I am not religeous in the normal sense, in that it is I don't feel the need to have an organization direct me in my spirituality and I don't put much value in the written works of men claiming to be the accual words of God and prefer to have my way of conecting with my God but I have found with very few exceptions that Padres are an irreplaceable asset to any military organization. As stated before on this thread their duties are far more reaching then just religeous and often move into the areas of social worker and confidant. I have seen them toil with the troops and share hardship and danger while always holding that solid understanding that all of "flock" doesn't always share their perticular view of the religeous plane. I have seen them provide strength and comfort to even the most outspoken "non-believer" in their time of need without ever preaching a verse. I for one would never consider a good padre as a waste of a posn on any mission / task that takes our people far from home and far from our own.
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 410
Chaplains are good with me... I've met 3 chaplains all of different denominations and they were ALL upstanding gents. One of them even has at time taken some 'holy' water with the troops, and is right along side of them at times when work is being carried out.
I have the utmost respect for the chaplaincy, and those who decided to take up a uniform and march alongside their flock.
Moe I have met a social worker in uniform. He was an Lt and performing the duties as he would if he worked civi side. I cant' for the life of me remember where he's based out of now...
I have the utmost respect for the chaplaincy, and those who decided to take up a uniform and march alongside their flock.
Moe I have met a social worker in uniform. He was an Lt and performing the duties as he would if he worked civi side. I cant' for the life of me remember where he's based out of now...
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From an Aussie prospective.
Over the years, I have always found Padres refreshing and good value. Some full of dirty jokes, and all of them always a good sense of humour.
I remember one day at one of our OPs in our FOB, after a near by SVBIED, he seen some of the lads posing for a pic with the mushroom cloud still in the background, and then whipped out his cam, and had one of us take a pic of him infront of the cloud too. Crazy times.
On my tour, we even had our Padre go out on a patrol (of course not in a shooting role, ha!) once. He would come out from JTFHQ at Victory once a week to 'check' on his boys.
The padre was there for our Lads with problems of all natures, and was someone for them to talk to about anything.
There will always be Padres in the Army.
OWDU
Over the years, I have always found Padres refreshing and good value. Some full of dirty jokes, and all of them always a good sense of humour.
I remember one day at one of our OPs in our FOB, after a near by SVBIED, he seen some of the lads posing for a pic with the mushroom cloud still in the background, and then whipped out his cam, and had one of us take a pic of him infront of the cloud too. Crazy times.
On my tour, we even had our Padre go out on a patrol (of course not in a shooting role, ha!) once. He would come out from JTFHQ at Victory once a week to 'check' on his boys.
The padre was there for our Lads with problems of all natures, and was someone for them to talk to about anything.
There will always be Padres in the Army.
OWDU
catalyst
Full Member
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kratz said:
I met him at KAF, he's a nice guy.
One day I show up for the am shift and whose there? the Padre, he decided he wanted to work at timmies with us. So he made doubld doubles, and singles, and served donuts...............etc. He worked better than a few of my co-workers and it was fun working with him.
