Need a steeple? Send for the Marines!

As the 228th FSB approached the end of the deployment cycle, nearly all of the projects that we had set out to accomplish had been completed. Hoping to go on another humanitarian mission, we even put out the word for more stuffed animals, colored pencils, and pens and other school supplies. While all the ducks were lined up, the unit that was to accompany us outside the wire ended up getting pressed into higher priority missions. In the end, we didn’t have the chance to go out among the villagers again, but we were able to pass on the supplies before we left to the other unit for a future mission.

I had put on my “wish list” a steeple for the chapel. During one meeting when I had a slide up indicating my desired project, a field grade officer said, “Don’t count on getting your steeple, Chaplain.” I responded that it was OK to wish. Enter SPC T. SPC T is truly one of a kind. I mentioned him in a previous blog as a soldier from Tennessee whose talents included singing and bug extermination. He is the consummate southerner with amazingly funny turns of phrases and the gift of gab. Think of John Goodman in O Brother Where Art Thou? SPC T’s way of getting out of work and getting what he wanted earned him the nickname "General T" This was not necessarily a complement.

For instance, when he decided that he just couldn’t deal with working in the mess hall (even though he was a cook); SPC T decided that he would build a deck around it instead. SPC T. did not lack motivation. According to the CO, this deck rivaled the Atlantic City boardwalk. He cut deals for supplies with unknown individuals. SPC T worked the angles. And chances were that you were getting worked over as well. He rubbed more than few people the wrong way, but aside from this personality trait, he was often warm and generous to me. And he could laugh at himself.

When I mentioned to him that I wished for a steeple, SPC T, produced two young Marines who were orphaned from their unit due to lack of responsibilities. Their unit was off in the hinterlands of the post, so they and their supervisor welcomed the opportunity to come help build. SPC T. made himself foreman, of course. Within two days the framing was nearly completed. A couple days later the Marines came with a steeple that they had constructed back at their unit. The steeple added that extra something that gave a sense of normalcy to our camp. The chapel looked like a chapel. Eventually, SGT M, a sweet but sometimes brooding (had been a boxer for some time) medic from Massachusetts who befriended me offered to paint the steeple provided that I understood that it was his gift to me.

One of the Marines had a grandfather who was a UCC Minister. The other wanted to go live in Japan after he completed his service and become an apprentice wood carver. These were fine young men who genuinely had smarts, skills and the desire to contribute. I was enamored of them and wished that I could find a way to keep them working for me. They even offered to come out to Baghdad to build more steeples for me. I told them that I first needed to have a chapel!

Hargrave and I spent a visit with our two Marines in their normal surroundings one day. They were technicians with the Predator and other drones. These oversized hobby planes took pictures and gathered all sorts of other intelligence in order to lessen the danger for our troops. It was a fun and impressive visit. When I asked them about reliability, they mentioned an excellent track record but did have a plane on hand that had crashed and was being investigated. Before I left, the Marines presented me with a balsa propeller. Unfortunately, I chose not to keep it as I was hurriedly packing. It was a nice memento. But I do have pictures of the steeple. After the outside was painted, I took a torch and burned letters into the inside frame so soldiers could see “In Honor of All Who Serve” as they walked into the chapel. The legacy was set with so little effort and great joy. All it took was one "General", two Marines and a medic.