A Jewish chaplain describing his ministry:
I find most of my work with men of Protestant and Catholic faiths. Moving about clearing stations, mobile hospitals, rest centers and reserve units...one cannot merely seek his own fellow worshippers. Every boy is equally important - and a smile looks as good on anyone. We forget that we are this faith or another and emphasize the common denominator of fellowship. When they bring them in on a litter covered with mud, blood-soaked, with fear and shock in their faces, you can't tell what they are until you look at their dog tags. To serve such men is my privilege.A letter home from Chaplain Pat Fowlkes, an Episcopal minister who enlisted in the Army in 1942 and who died in 1945 after jumping with paratroopers behind German lines:
Dear Mother and Lib,
All continues to go well. I have a tough time with my services, though I was able to have two this last Sunday, one a Communion with 42 present. This last I think I'll never forget. I had a roof over the congregation but the sides of the room were completely out and so was the roof over my head. All during the service the snow was pattering down on me. The temperature was around 20 or 25 and my hands soon began to get cold, handling the hymn book etc. and then particularly handing the metal vessels. By the time I was ready to administer, my right hand was almost as useless as a wax claw would have been. Then when I began to try to pick up the thin wafers I found that they were frozen so stiff that they became crumbs when I touched them. Through 42 I had to go, administering crumbs as best I could with a purple, numb hand - wow! What an experience. I hope it will soon be over. I have a feeling it may be...Right now I just can't think how heaven could possibly be better than Virginia in the spring.
Chaplain's letter from North Africa, June 20, 1944:
My Darling Girl,
My own services are over for the day now and I am swinging out of a sermonic mood into a conversational one. I was pleased this morning, as I often am now, at the size of the congregation. At the general service in the open air I had 148. There were only 3 at Communion, though. My portable altar hasn't caught up with me, so I have to use the top of a mess kit for a paten [communion plate] and a canteen cup for a chalice. The elements are native vino and G.I. bread! I have a Bible class going now which is also thriving...
From Chaplain A.M. Sherman, Jr., who participated in the D-Day attack on Omaha Beach:
During these months I held services in every conceivable location - on the open deck, in the men's mess hall, aboard ship, on the cargo hatch of a sunken Liberty ship, aboard a floating pier, ashore, in the open, in the rain, and under tarpaulined shelter...These services were in many ways far more real than those held in the greatest cathedrals.


The story of African American soldiers and sailors in World War II is a sobering one. Relegated to segregated units, they were for the most part assigned support duties in areas such as transportation, cooking and manual labor. With the exception of such distinguished squadrons as the Tuskegee airmen, their courage and service, as well as the humiliation and disrespect they endured, have not been told. Black chaplains trained alongside their white counterparts and then were assigned to all-black units. They responded to the same needs of morale, homesickness, fear and grief as did all chaplains. Added to their duties must have been issues of frustration over injustice and fairness. More than one million black soldiers served in World War II. Counted among them were an estimated 300 back chaplains whose personal faith and pastoral care bolstered the troops.