What is Four Chaplains Day? It is a day set aside by veterans of the various services and eras to gather and remember four military chaplains who most likely did not think of themselves as heroes but were thrust into an act of heroism and were forever remembered as such to the many military men aboard the USAT Dorchester. This is the story of how a Methodist minister, a Jewish rabbi, a Roman Catholic priest, and a Dutch Reformed minister made the supreme sacrifice during an ocean crossing during World War II.

The ceremony will be held on February 3, 2024, at 3 p.m., at the Legion Post on Pearl Street. The public is invited and encouraged to join the post membership to hear the Chaplain’s story. Refreshments will be served immediately following the ceremony.

This is the story of four such men and their act of compassion, selflessness, and heroism. A story that is still told today, 81 years after the event took place on February 3, 1943.

Their names are Lt. George L. Fox, Methodist minister; Lt. Alexander D. Goode, Jewish rabbi; Lt. John P. Washington, Roman Catholic priest; and Lt. Clark V. Poling, a Dutch Reformed Protestant minister. Their backgrounds, personalities and faiths were different, but all having one God as their heavenly father. They had met at Army Chaplains School at Harvard University where they became friends as they prepared for service in the European theater, all to sail on board an Army transport ship to report to their new assignments.

The U.S.A.T. Dorchester, a converted cruise liner made into an Army transport ship and one of three ships in a supply convoy of merchant and troop ships, set sail from Newfoundland January 23, 1943, toward an American base in Greenland. SG-19, as it was called, was escorted by three Coast Guard Cutters, the Tampa, the Escanaba, and the Comanche.

On the evening of Feb. 2, 1943, the Dorchester was only 150 miles from its destination, but the captain ordered the men to sleep in their clothing and keep 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, an act they would soon find regrettable.

At 12:55 a.m. on Feb. 3, through the cross hairs of his periscope, an officer aboard the German submarine U-223 spotted the Dorchester. After identifying and targeting the ship, he gave orders to fire torpedoes and a fan of three were fired. The one torpedo that found its mark was decisive — and deadly — striking the starboard side, amid ship, far below the water line. The hit knocked out power and radio contact with the three escort ships.

Aboard the Dorchester, panic and chaos set in. Many men were wounded, many killed and many more stunned and confused. Those sleeping without clothing rushed topside where they were confronted first by a blast of icy Arctic air and then by the knowledge that death awaited. Men jumped from the ship into lifeboats, over-crowding them to the point of capsizing. Other rafts, tossed into the Atlantic, drifted away before soldiers could get in them. By this time, most of the men were topside, and the chaplains opened a storage locker and began distributing life jackets. When there were no more life jackets in the storage room, the chaplains removed theirs
and gave them to four frightened young men. When giving their life jackets, the four chaplains did not call out for men of their faith, but simply gave their life jackets to the next man in line. As the ship went down, survivors in nearby rafts could see the four chaplains, arms linked and braced against the slanting deck. Their voices could also be heard, offering prayers, and singing hymns.

Of the 902 men aboard the U.S.A.T. Dorchester, 672 died, leaving only 230 survivors. The last known survivor of the Dorchester, William G. Bunkleman, passed away in 2019. There were 43 men from Maine on that ship.

Let me now introduce you to these four brave soldiers.
 
Chaplain George Fox was the oldest of the Four Chaplains. In Vermont, he was called “the little minister,” because he was 5- foot, 7-inches-tall. Lying about his age in 1917, he enlisted in the Army as a medical corps assistant. He received the Silver Star for rescuing a wounded soldier from a battlefield filled with poison gas, although he wore no gas mask himself, and the Croix de Guerre for outstanding bravery in an artillery barrage that left him with a broken spine. After the war, he became a successful accountant. He was happily married with two children when he heard God’s call to the ministry. Fox went back to school and later was ordained as a
Methodist minister.

When war came, he once again enlisted, telling his wife, “I’ve got to go. I know from experience what our boys are about to face. They need me.” Before he boarded Dorchester, he wrote a letter to his daughter. “I want you to know,” he wrote, “how proud I am that your marks in school are so high — but always remember that kindness and charity and courtesy are much more important.”

Rabbi Alexander Goode grew up in Washington, D.C., and he was an outstanding athlete and scholar. Following in his father’s footsteps, this young man — known for his laughter and love of life — became a rabbi. Even as he pursued his studies, he found time to serve in the National Guard. The return of the body of the Unknown Soldier to Arlington National Cemetery had a profound effect on Goode. He attended the ceremonies, choosing to walk the 15 miles there and 15 miles back rather than take a car or a bus because he thought it showed more respect.

Goode married his childhood sweetheart, and they had a daughter. He was serving a synagogue in York, Pa., when World War II broke out. One day, Mrs. Goode received a telegram from her husband that read, “Having a wonderful experience,” and she knew that her husband had found companions with whom he could share his faith and good humor.

Chaplain Clark V. Poling was the youngest of the Four Chaplains and the seventh generation in an unbroken line of ministers in the Dutch Reformed Church. When WWII broke out, he was anxious to go, 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. The elder Poling replied, “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.” So, the young man left his pastorate in Schenectady, N.Y., and became an Army chaplain.

Just before he sailed, Poling 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 … and have the strength, courage, and understanding of men. Just pray that I shall be adequate.” Indeed, he taught his men to not harbor personal hatred for the Germans and the Japanese. “Hate the system that made your brother evil,” he said. “It is the system we must destroy.”
 
Chaplain John P. Washington grew up in the toughest section of Newark, N.J., poor, scrappy and determined. One of nine children born to an Irish immigrant family, he was blessed with a sunny disposition and a love for music. He also loved a good fight and was a member of the South 12th Street gang when he was called to the priesthood. He played ball with the boys of the parish, organized sports teams and when the war broke out, went with his “boys” into the Army. Raised in song and prayer to comfort those around him, Washington’s beautiful voice could be heard above the cries of the dying in his final moments on Feb. 3, 1943.

It is our hope, the members of War Memorial Post 30, that you have learned a little something about the Four Chaplains and may want to do further research. More important than that, it is our responsibility to keep the knowledge and memory of the Four Chaplains and their sacrifice alive.

For more information on the 4 Chaplains and other Post 30 programs or membership please call Jeff Sukeforth, Post Adjutant, at 691-2270.