Camp Shelby: Eleven Days Out--Part I

Camp Shelby is located about an hour north of Gulfport, MS (near Biloxi). It is a camp run strictly for the National Guard units from all over the U.S. that are preparing to deploy or that have returned from deployment. The grounds about the camp are very lush with many small pine trees, bushes, and occasionally one spots a magnolia tree. Most of the buildings are plain cinder block barracks. There is a military museum with a dozen or so helicopters, an attractive chapel, and an old home that has been converted into office space.

The experience here is the most “military-like” that I have had in terms of the variety of people and the activity level. At 5:30 AM there are scores of soldiers out beginning their physical training. Many of them are youthful and athletic, while others are older and paunchier who move with expressions of effort on their faces. From that point on in the day, in every direction one looks one sees soldiers performing a huge variety of duties or walking about. Some of the soldiers wear the classic green BDU’s (battle dress uniform), others are in their PT gear, and others yet are in Dessert Dress Uniforms (DSU) or the newly designed ASU’s. The ASU’s have small square pixels of a grayish green, moss, and tan. They are worn with tan nubuck-type boots. Some soldiers are loading items on to the backs of vehicles, many are standing with cell phones up to their ears, others are standing about waiting for shuttle rides and a few drive by in humvees while someone sits on top on a turret gun. It has been relatively easy to find my role in this hum of activity.

Since arrival, I have been staying in a barracks with several other young officers. I am currently housed in the Transition/Replacement Unit area. The unit to which I have been assigned has been here since January and there is currently no space for me that I know of. This actually is not a problem because I have other requirements to fulfill in the Soldier Readiness Program and attend a few more classes that build and refresh on some soldier skills. Soldier readiness includes vision, dental and audiology check ups, paperwork confirming a soldier’s security clearances, housing, and even confirming wills and powers of attorney. Additionally I’ve had at least four more shots (I had five back in PA) and will have to wait another ten days until I am able to receive the small pox vaccine. Apparently the method of vaccinating for small pox is to break the skin. Eventually the area scabs over, but in the meanwhile one must not touch it due to the live virus that is present and can be spread.

The Army was good about tracking my flight from Harrisburg into Gulfport. In my earnestness and anxiety, I packed nearly every piece of equipment that has been issued to me. Plus, I needed to bring a few extra books to support my ministry. All in all I had two duffle backs, a rucksack, a hand bag, a computer case, and a small trunk. I had to make three trips back to the terminal to gather my belongings. About an hour later I was picked up in a van by a specialist whose duty was to shuttle soldiers back and forth to Shelby. The first thing after he helped load my stuff, he asked me if I was hungry. I told him that I was (I hadn’t eaten since breakfast) and he asked me if I had any preferences. I spotted an Applebee’s and we were able to sit and relax for a bit before making our way toward Shelby.

The only task that I needed to complete before arriving was to send my tax returns. Talk about Southern hospitality; our waitress actually called to find out where the closest post office was. The scene at the post office was comical. I expected that since it was still right before dinnertime that the line would be short. The windows had closed and only a couple people were standing in front of a brand new and fully automated postal computer that weighed mailed and printed stamps. The woman in the front was waiting for the machine to print while an attendant stood next to the machine. The machine went on the fritz and for the next twenty minutes we stood there waiting for something to happen. I decided that I had finally waited enough and simply overloaded my letters and manila envelopes with stamps and dropped them into the slot. I believe that this might be the fifth year in a row that I have to pay my taxes by installments. My accountant told me that it is due to self employment tax. Sometimes it feels like trying to dig a hole in a lake of water.


Most of my time since my arrival has been spent in-processing. As I mentioned, my home for the time being is the Transition/Replacement unit. In-processing begins here. The first two days while I was here were spent in a room with approximately 15 other soldiers while we watched a series of briefings. We covered everything from our new status as Title 10 Active Duty soldiers to sexual harassment. The days went slowly. Luckily, I arrived about the same time as an acquaintance from the aviation brigade back in PA. He is a bright and very talkative Major who enjoys the ever present ironies of the Army. His unit called him only days before they wanted him down here. When he arrived, he discovered that they had no place for him to stay. Both he and I have been walking to the other end of the post (about 1.5 miles) to get to the cafeteria. Under the replacement unit we have been given passes to the Consolidated Dining Facility that serves three hot meals a day. The food has been very good and is rumored to be much better than that in our units. So, we both are willing to hang out here until it is certain that we have places to stay.

The use of cell phones has completely changed the landscape of what an Army post looks like. During clear days and evenings, one can look around the camp and see dozens of soldiers on their cell phones perched, standing and walking around. They appear to be wax people who have been set here to give the impression of activity. One evening, I followed suit and called a friend back home. I walked outside the barracks in the warm evening air and talked to a friend back home over my cell phone about some soldiers who had learned that they would be doing foot patrols in town in Ar Ramadi. I mentioned that the morale among these men was somber and then continued talking about my many other experiences since my arrival. A few moments later I was approached by a soldier in his forties with forlorn eyes and a southern draw. His manner was apologetic but earnest.

This is what I remember of our conversation:

Soldier: Are you OK, sir?
Me: Yes, I am doing well. How are you?
Soldier: We’re pretty concerned. Are you a chaplain?
Me: Yes, what is going on?
Soldier: Well we heard you talking over there and are concerned about you. Are you going to be OK?
Me: Yes, I should be fine.
Soldier: Have you gone on this type of mission before?
Me: No.
Soldier: Do you know where we’re going?
Me: Yes. We’re going to be around Ar Ramadi. I had heard things were once calm there, but now it is getting a bit hairy.
Soldier: We’re just worried about the mission and all the flying around. Do you know much about it? Will you be OK?
Me: I don’t know much about it. But, I’m sure I’ll be OK.
Soldier: Have you flown this kind of mission before?
Me: No. But I am part of an aviation battalion back in PA. I think we’ll be fine.
Soldier: I guess you haven’t been brief yet about the flying conditions.
Me: Well, no. I’m a chaplain and don’t get into a lot of details about flying missions.
Soldier: I thought you said that you were a chopper pilot.
Me: Chopper pilot?! No. Oh…I get it…I thought you ask me if I was a chaplain!

The next day I suggested to the brigade chaplain that post chaplain contact this unit to assist with some of the anxiety over the deployment.

Onward Christian Soldiers...

Yes. We actually sang "Onward Christian Soldiers" at the chapel service the morning before the graduation ceremony. I was once told by a seminarian friend who couldn't stand Onward that IF a congregation sings it that they ought to sing it right--with gusto. And we did. There is something powerful about standing with a group of peers who you know would go the extra mile in their service to God and others. Yes, Onward is a "rouser" in lyrics and music but I think it is less about having the "right" image of God than feeling God's awesome strength. I have enjoyed singing "A Mighty Fortress" more than a couple of times. The words and music impart strength and a quickening of the spirit. We often must do a fine balancing act between the power to be and act and the need for humility in the face of the complexities of life. I think that this balancing act becomes a daily practice for a military chaplain. We are called to be men and women of God and examples of good soldiers. The Christian tradition has soldiers and spiritual warriors within it: St. George slaying the dragon. St. Ignatius of Loyola. St. Barbara died a martyr's death and is recognized as a patron saint of those who work with artillery. Even Zwingli in the Reformed tradition knew the battlefield. It can be said that Martin Luther King, Jr. was a spiritual warrior of a higher order that called people to resist by peaceful means. Martin of Tours, a soldier gave his cloak to a beggar.

Some acquaintances, friends and church members sometimes wonder and ask about what called and motivated me toward this work. It is as complex as the experiences that have made me who I am and as simple as the desire to do something with dignity and meaning. I don't see anything extraordinary in what I am doing and can think of at least a handful of others who might be better at it. But, I believe that my call has a lot to do with wanting to be where I might be most useful to others. I believe that I can be with others in their times of grief, because I am familiar with its contours. I believe that in the military I am learning things about myself that I hadn't seen before, such as the ability to be more flexible in the face of difficulties and that there is genuinely strength in diversity. I have learned that I often great respect and admiration for individuals who are so very different than I am. And that common ground is a matter of being willing to be open to common experience. One doesn't even have to "talk about it" and figure it out. Common experience and especially common experience in adversity reveal truth if not being truth in themselves. One day when I met up with a professor friend of mine and began to reveal doubts about my path said, "Yes. But do you look good in the uniform? That's what really matters." I howled with laughter. And told him that quickly put things back into perspective.

The week prior to graduation was filled with some winding down events and programs. One of the highlights for most of my Protestant colleagues was the arrival of wives and other family members. The new officers wives were briefed in an adjacent room and were given some survival skills and regular refreshments. Most of them were young, attractive and upbeat. Many of them had teaching or nursing experience in common. One woman with a quick wit and a curious mind was the Director for Special Education in her school district. I met at least a couple of wives who just by their presence gave me more insight into their husband. For some it was obvious that the couples drew much strength from being with each other.

Visitors to our classroom during the last week included Navy and Air Force chaplains. We spent time discussing how chaplains work together during joint operations. We had a couple of highly motivated "rah, rah" recruiters stop by and present some of the latest figures in recruiting and what it means specifically for the chaplaincy. As individuals are entering seminary later and later in life, the chaplaincy has had to adjust the age caps. Right now, there are many Catholic chaplains who are entering at far beyond 40. Many Protestants are close to 40. Other briefings included a presentation of how the branch is supported by Non-commissioned Officers and what our responsibilities are to their education, training and promotion. For those of you who don't know it, the military is run by the Army's middle management: the NCO's.

We spent a few afternoons simply preparing for graduation. We had songs to learn, facing movements to practice, and making sure that the pins and ribbons on our uniforms were correct. I finally earned my first ribbons. These were ones everyone gets just for showing up: The Global War on Terrorism ribbon, The Army Service ribbon, and The National defense Service Medal which shares an odd similarity to the Rainbow Flag. At least I wasn't going into the graduation dinner devoid of ribbons. I had been feeling self conscious around all the peacock officers who have all sorts of doo-dads pinned on themselves. Additionally, the graduating Chaplains (versus graduating Staff Specialists) all received chaplain's kits. The Army has a kit for each religion. The Protestant kit can be used for Catholics because it has a reversible cross/crucifix and a pyx (a small silver box) for wafers and an oil stock for anointing. I believe that the Catholics have their own specified kit as do the Orthodox. The Orthodox kit is packed with all the necessary accoutrements, as are Jewish (complete with Seder items), Hindu and Buddhist. Chaplains were all given black and white reversible stoles with the seal of the United States embroidered in gold thread. This item will mostly be used for military funerals.

Mom and my dear friend Bonnie (A former choir director who saw me through my combat training at a previous congregation in another Conference.) arrived at the graduation dinner right on time as the receiving line was about to begin. Their adventure started in Reading and Lancaster to Philadelphia and then a flight to Raleigh, NC. From there they drove 3.5 hours to Columbia. It was moving for me to have Mom there because I knew it would fill her with some pride and help put her mind at ease for the mission I have undertaken. We went through the receiving line and met General Hicks, the Chief of Chaplains. Gen. Hicks entered as an enlisted soldier about 35 years ago. He was very warm and gentle. The evening included many introductions of new friends and colleagues. We had various presentations to Small Group Leaders (chaplain trainers) and NCO's who made the program memorable. We even presented lampoonish skits. A brilliant one was presented by first platoon with the direction of CH (1LT) Jonathan Fisher who had voice and drama training. (Jonathan, a GA Guardsman was promoted from Staff Specialist to Chaplain during the last week. He, like most Guard Chaplains are being used for Iraq right of way.) They based their skit on how to cut a pizza and used the various personalities to do retakes of the same scene. The room was in an uproar of laughter because the impersonations were near perfect. My mom was laughing without having any experience of the real individuals; so it translated well.

The evening culminated with a pinning ceremony for all the chaplains. We all stood around the ball room in our dress blues and Class A's as the higher officers pinned us with the Chaplain Branch Crest. There was an immense amount of pride present in the room of over 200 service persons, families and guests. It was very silent and solemn. The color guard shortly thereafter retrieved the colors and slowly exited the room as the sergeant lead the way with an outstretched saber.

The next day started early. I found that 6:50 A.M. was a bit too early even though we were told to be present. We mostly waited around until 7:40 A.M. when we conducted one last rehearsal. (I think.) Anyway, chapel began at 8 A.M. and CH (MAJ) Brown, our Course Leader gave a solid homily on having humility and was peppered with good humor. During the break between chapel service and the graduation ceremony, I had the opportunity to introduce Mom and Bonnie to CH (1LT) Louis Kaminski, a Catholic Priest from the Scranton area. Fr. Louis and I are heading to Iraq with the same brigade. He will cover a wide area because of the lack of priests as chaplains. (Only 8% of the chaplaincy is Catholic, while 25% of the Army is Catholic.) Mom, of course, told Fr. Louis to look after me.

Our graduation ceremony was short and sweet. CH Hicks gave the graduation speech. It mostly was based on his life story and some important advice to "be who you are and live out your calling." In other words, pay less attention in trying to "make it" in the Army and more in taking care of soldiers. During one point in his speech he inserted a quote from John Wayne. I think it had to do with courage. Bonnie later mentioned that there would have been better persons to quote for the military given that John Wayne was a draft dodger. I never knew... I guess it's one of those image vs. substance things... After the graduation, we all lined up outside the School House as everyone came by and shook our hands. I was impressed at the cross section of America that was present. "Rednecks," Asians, Puerto Ricans, Well-heeled white folks, African-Americans, Veterans, Conservatives and Liberals, elderly persons, teenagers and children. As people shook my hand I would often ask them for whom did they come. One man stated that he just liked coming to the chaplains graduations and wanted to wish us well. It was a beautiful and humbling day as many said, "Thank you for what you are doing."

It was hard to say goodbye to one of the best group experiences of my life, so far. But it wouldn't be another hour or so while our platoon members waited again in line to receive our final evaluations. We started to grumble a bit, as family members were kept waiting and others had travel plans to fulfill. After each student came out with his paperwork in hand, he would say goodbye in his own way to the remaining chaplains. I shook our class leader's hand and thanked him for his excellent leadership (Since, I had come in 3 phases I was able to compare. CH Long had been in Special Forces and was a quiet, yet clear spoken leader. ) As I turned around to leave, one of my buddies called my name and ran and gave me a hug. This was especially meaningful given that we had a couple disagreements, yet remained friends with each other. All of these experiences have been a great blessing and have been strengthening for the road ahead.

The drive back to Lancaster was amazingly pleasant and relaxing. The interstate traffic moved smoothly. I came home to an additional new housemate who brought six! dogs with him. Three of them are Vizsla pups. When the pups started crying in the middle of the night, I brought them to bed with me. For a while they walked all around the bed and over me and wrestled. Then they settled down. One slept on top of my head. The next morning I found one under my pillow. They are irresistibly cute. Luckily I don't have to succumb to the temptation of keeping any. Orders arrived today. I fly to MS on Friday. According to this piece of paper I will be on orders "no more than 545 days"...

Capstone

On Monday, we got up early enough to make a 7A.M. formation so that we could ruck march about five miles to our camp. My rucksack weighed around thirty pounds, plus we each wore Kevlar vests and helmets. So we were carrying enough weight into the early morning march with seventy degree weather. The sweat started pouring out of me quickly until I remembered that I had purchased a nylon cap that I was wearing under my helmet. As soon as I remembered I took it off and became somewhat cooler. We had a couple of injuries during the march, but not so much that anyone had to miss out on the training exercise.

We stopped half way to drink water and change socks. Some of us who are not used to marching or hiking also had to deal with blisters. I was in good shape in that department. The heavy winter boots that I had were very comfortable, but a bit hot. We marched mostly off the pavement along the sandy trails until we came to a dirt road which lead to our camp area. My stamina held up very well, but it was a relief to lay down the load.

Initially we lined up in formation and put down our rucksacks and rested a bit. Shortly thereafter was tent assembly. We raised five tents, three of them large enough to fit thirty persons lying down. We were fairly orderly for having a number of persons who had never done this before. I got to pound in a few spikes while a few other students were surprised about how aggressive I could be.

After the tents were up, our next task was to dig foxholes "personal survivability shelters" for ourselves. We dug them in "v" formation in order to accommodate two: one for each side of the "V." We faced a wooded hill opposite ourselves in order to simulate the direction the enemy was expected to come from. Later that evening and a couple more times thereafter we were surprised by the enemy with loud simulated mortar rounds and gunfire. In addition, loud Arabic call to prayer was played to give an other-worldly effect. We quickly donned our masks and lay face down in our foxholes and then we were critiqued on our reaction times.

I slept on a mat and sleeping bag between two soldiers who were snorers. It didn't seem to bother me too much. It took me more time to get myself in a comfortable position on the ground. One evening someone sounded the alarm and we all ran out to our foxholes only to discover that the class instructors were surprised by our false alarm. They sent us back to bed. One morning, CH Tripplett impressed upon us the importance of these foxholes by telling us that when shrapnel hits the ground, it runs outward along the ground and hits anything in its way.

Our main purpose in the exercise was to hike out to different sites where we would learn about different aspects of ministry and soldiering. These were called situational exercise lanes or "STX lanes." (By the way, in the military it is possible to speak in complete sentences only using acronyms.)There was a triage STX lane, an Improvised Explosive device (IED) lane, and a Memorial Service/Ceremony STX lane. During each hike to the various STX lanes we carried a dummy in a stretcher in order to add realism to our hikes.

A Jesuit Priest and I worked on a Memorial Service together. The assignment was to respond to a scenario given to us and to determine if a service (religious) or ceremony (military custom/non-denominational) were best. We had to have everything in order including a homily to deliver after 15 minutes of preparation. Our scenario was a mass casualty in Iraq of three single soldiers, each of differing faiths including one Muslim. I preached from the OT (Ps 23 and portions of Ps 139) and emphasized how amazing it was to have three persons of such diverse backgrounds willing to fight for each other. I spoke of how the Muslim must have felt odd, being an American soldier and fighting predominantly soldiers of Muslim faith. I mentioned that he held America precious just as each of us did. I talked about respect and how one who is not outwardly religious (one of the soldiers had indicated "No religious preference") is still a child of God.

The other lanes also had significant learnings for me. We crept through a wooded area and attempted to point out all the mines. We were pretty good, but died at least once if not a couple times. These devices are insidious. They can be hidden and booby trapped in countless ways. We were told that some units have to face high pressure like this for 24 or more hours at a time in some cases. Our triage lane was excellent. We were briefed on how medics make decisions and were taught carries and how to call for Medevac (helicopter evacuation). We topped the lane off with an exercise of responding to several wounded. Some of us got silly by trying to make the "chaplains" or the "patients" laugh while playing along. They threw us a curve by having an Arab looking man who was armed and carrying a baby walk into our area. One of our chaplains didn't react in the best possible way to the situation. We were told that we needed to stay aware of the fact that all sorts of chaotic things might come our way and our job was to be as deliberate as possible in our actions.

The atmosphere during our exercise was part military and part church camp. Most of you are probably aware that I listen to preachers with at least one ear of skepticism. The one night, I was deeply impressed by one of our colleague chaplains who preached. CH (1LT) Martin was a young man who came from a holiness or Pentecostal background. He spoke eloquently of how he had wrestled with hopelessness in his life. He was remarkably vulnerable with no hint of cheap platitudes or self pity. CH Martin spoke with a compelling simplicity. A couple days after the service, I sat and spoke with him. (He was one of the snorers next to me at night.) In our conversation, I discovered that he had done Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) at a hospital with a Trauma unit. I affirmed to him that I believed he had a powerful ministry to share.

In the tents at night there were silly antics and laughter. There was a remarkable cohesiveness given how much we were being stressed. It is obvious that this is a quality that the military rewards. Morale remained good. Two meals a day were hot and good. And the weather was amazing until Thursday morning when rain was threatening. Range control closed down our course and we were packed in buses rucks and all tighter than sardines and headed back to hot showers. It was a really just an appetizer of what soldiers often experience out in the field. But, that was the point. We weren't sent out to be survivalists, simply chaplains who have some grounding in soldier skills. More will come later.