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Patrick O’Donnell relates that he had two main aims in writing this book: to give Americans back home a better feel for the heroism of our men who are fighting in Iraq and to do this by telling the story of the Marines in 1st Platoon of Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, who suffered heavy causulties in the Battle of Fallujah. I picked up the book to learn more about what the fighting in Iraq has been like, specifically in this most intense of battles, the battle for Fallujah. While we can read about Iraq every day in the papers, newspaper reporting rarely gives one a sense either for the men who are fighting or for the specific tactics used and the dangers faced.
In regard to the reasons I had in reading the book, I was fairly satisfied by the close of it. There were, however, a few things by the book’s end which I didn’t quite understand or, perhaps better, couldn’t quite picture. But this probably wasn’t a failing of the author so much as a general difficulty of portraying some of the events recounted in print.
Reading the book as a Catholic, there were several things that struck me. In the early pages, O’Donnell describes how many of the men who fought with Lima Company came to be in the Corps. Common reasons included a need to get one’s life in order and the desire to see whether one had the “right stuff” to make it as Marine. O’Donnell goes on to say that for many of the men, joining the Corps was like joining a religious order, such as . . . the Jesuits. As I read that line, I couldn’t but laugh out loud! It wasn’t that O’Donnell’s analogy was off base; indeed, far from it! It’s only that the analogy was out of date by about 50 or 60 years. I don’t know whether O’Donnell realized that he was comparing the iron men of Lima Company to sweater vest wearing, sandal sporting, often gay, always effeminate namby men who are the Jesuits today.
At one time, the analogy would have been perfect, for the early Jesuits conceived of themselves as a company or army under a general, the Pope. One could even have spoken of the Jesuits as a kind of special forces: when the work of evangelizing the savages in North America proved too difficult for the Franciscans in the 17th century, the Jesuits were sent in. Hopefully, through the intercession of the many Jesuit confessors and martyrs, this spirit will one day return.
Though the reference would have been too abstruse for use in a book such as this, this passage also reminded me of Fr. Philip Anderson, the prior of Our Lady of Clear Creek Benedictine monastery in Oklahoma. When I visited there some while ago, he told me a little about himself, relating that he joined the Corps to pay for college and that he chose the Corps because the other armed forces seemed “too decadent”. Needless to say, this man runs a serious monastery where asceticism and discipline aren’t after thoughts.
The other element in this book which struck me as a Catholic was the apparent lack of serious preparation for death. A chaplain was only mentioned at the very end of the book as he helped the Marines in a ceremony for those of their unit who had been killed in Fallujah. O’Donnell recounted about some of the men that they would interiorially make their peace with God or promise God that they would never do certain things again if they came out of the battle alive. The obligatory line was also repeated that “there are no atheists in foxholes”, but despite this claim, O’Donnell didn’t portrary the men as overly concerned about what awaited them on the other side of death.
In the afterword, O’Donnell relates that while he didn’t consider himself to be a man of faith before his time in Iraq, while there, he experienced something of a change of heart. Specifically, he claimed that on a number of a occasions some kind of guardian angel or spirit or voice warned him not to do this or that, such as to sit in a particular place in which a few moments later a mortar round exploded.
The ceremony for the fallen Marines, once everyone was back at Abu Ghraib base, was filled with the usual fluff about how the fallen were all now in Heaven. Though I sincerely hope that they are all in Heaven, I don’t have any reason to think this is the case beyond the often great natural virtue which these men displayed in their last days. I doubt that the chaplain who presided at this ceremony was Catholic, but I wonder, in general, how serious Catholic chaplains handle these sorts of situations? (I link here to a recent article in The Remnant about the difficulty of being a Catholic sailor and traditionalist.)
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
“I don’t have any reason to think this is the case beyond the often great natural virtue which these men displayed in their last days”
Well, if we’re specifically calling the virtue “natural” (which is a judgment call), it is no reason at all to think that these men are in heaven, which requires supernatural virtue.
Yes.
I guess what I meant was that the possession of natural virtue, though it does not imply the possesion of supernatural virtue, is consistent with it. Or, everyone who has superhatural virtue will also have natural virtue. So not being better acquainted with these men, I was hoping that theirs was not a case of natural virtue on its own.
Josephus, I found your review very thoughtful and provocative (in the good sense). I haven’t submitted any comments for a while precisely because I have been engaged as a Catholic chaplain with the Marines. I can certainly confirm your intuition that few of the younger Marines make any kind of serious preparation for death. Partly, I think, this is due–especially on the part of Catholics–to a poor or nonexistent education in the Faith. Attendance at Sunday Mass is low proportionate to the number of Catholics; attendance at daily Mass, in the Navy or the Marine Corps, comprises one or two faithful souls, at best. I, too, feel that insofar as I can judge the salvation of those who are killed in combat is not assured: they have many grave sins on their consciences (oftentimes), and they seemingly make no serious purpose of amendment even when the danger of death is quite immediate. On a happier note, I am quite free at my command to offer Requiem Masses for the fallen Catholics instead of the ubiquitous “memorial services,” that–as I have mentioned to others–simply reinforce that one’s comrades are dead; any mention of the resurrection of the dead, let alone prayers for the poor souls, appears at such services only fortuitously.
Finally, I would say that it is possible to be a faithful and traditional priest in the military but at a certain cost. There is an entrenched group of priests in the higher ranks that are very much products of the 1970’s; happily they are all on the verge of retirement. My main reservation with serving in the military is that, given the great need for faithful priests elsewhere, and given the indifference of so many Catholics in the military, it seems almost like a squandering of the gifts Christ gives us priests if twenty or more years are spent in such an environment. “To other towns and villages I must go,” says the Master, and I’m beginning to think that these words apply to any priest interested in serving the good of souls the best he can. However, at the same time, there is an incalculable value to being able to give the Last Rites (even once) to a Marine or soldier who otherwise would have had no hope of receiving the Sacraments. God bless all of you at the Cornell Society,
A Simple Priest
A Simple Priest,
I hope you stay in the chaplaincy.
Being a parish priest may prove no more fulfilling.
It may seem that your efforts in the military are not paying off, but perhaps this is not really the case.
Just your presence may make a difference.
Your prayers before God and to the Blessed Virgin Mary for men who otherwise may never have had a man, especially a priest, pray for them may make a difference.
Your offering of the TLM and respectful Novus Ordos, and the extra graces this brings may make a difference.
Being a parish priest of a run of the mill diocesan parish I personally think would be much worse. Most of the parishioners are just as superficial about their faith. Many of them will get down right angry with you and will persecute you for mentioning sin from the pulpit. “A Simple Priest is not as nice as Fr. Bob was.” Be prepared to hear this a lot. And, worst of all - be prepared for the legions and legions of busy body women, under the curse of Eve, who will be contacting you and bothering you all hours of the day trying to take on a greater “ministry” within the parish.
Being in the military gives you more access to men and women, Catholics and non-Catholics. More access in the sense that you are with these people at their most vulnerable times in their lives.
And hopefully, you’ll move up the ranks and be able to influence policy within the chaplaincy and within the Military Ordinariate someday..
I was listening to a sermon by a priest last week about a convert from anti-Catholic Judaism to Roman Catholicism, named Fr. Augustine Marie of the Most Blessed Sacrament. His conversion story is very interesting. But his mother never converted. She cursed God and publicly cursed the monks of his order when Fr. Augustine Marie refused to leave his monastery when she came to “rescue him.” She died an anti-Catholic Jewess.
However, the Cure of Ars relates that a very holy women once asked Our Lord why He said that He would listen to our prayers, yet seemingly did not listen to the prayers of a very holy and devoted priest like Fr. Augustine for the conversion of his mother. Our Lord revealed to this women who in turn told the Cure of Ars that at the moments before Fr. Augustine Marie’s mother’s death, Mary went before Our Lord and told him that she claimed the mother’s soul for herself and requested she be saved. Fr. Augustine had prayed for his mother his entire life and “had commended her soul to me countless times”-the Mother of God told her Divine Son. So Jesus Christ of course acquiesced to his Mother’s request and sent the necessary grace down into the old Jewess’ heart, and in her last moments, unbeknownst to the world, she cried out to heaven “God of the Christians, have mercy on me. Give me another chance. Allow me to live and to be baptized a Catholic.” She died but with the sanctifying grace.
I just bring it up to say there are no hopeless causes.
And the work you’re doing could be paying off dividends which none of us will be aware of until the end of time.
Wow, JSP, that’s a great story. Do you know where I could find it written up?
I see that Fr. Augustine’s story can be found on some webpages.. However, some of the interesting facts about his conversion are left out, also I haven’t seen anything on the web about his mother. I have the sermon on CD, but in the past I’ve had trouble emailing them because of the size..
“Pray, pray, a great deal, and make sacrifices for sinners, for many souls go to Hell because they have no one to make sacrifices and pray for them.” Our Lady of Fatima
Dear JSP,
Thank you for your thoughtful and kind reply. It is true that there is no limit to what can be achieved through prayer and grace–as the story you relate, as well as that related of the Emperor Trajan, reveals. And it’s true that there’s a great deal of truth to the little axiom to “bloom where you’re planted.” One serious difficulty at present in the Navy Chaplain Corps (which supplies chaplains to the Marines and the Coast Guard as well) is the move away from chapels, so that priests are in effect deprived of the stable “base of operations” so necessary for instruction in the Faith, etc. However, who knows but that this can, and will, be overcome by prayer. Thank you again for your kind regard, A Simple Priest