Easter on the firing range --xiii

In early spring of 1944, the emotional agony must have been impossible. What would happen on June 6, in just a few months, was in all likelihood not only unknown and really unimaginable, except for the fact that they had to know--all these infantry GIs--that something was coming, something big, something, I'm sure they thought, to end the war, maybe by way of themselves. 

Meanwhile, everyone simply waited, expecting their own call up front at any time.

March 18:

'A soldier requested a transfer to a lighter job. He is 16 years of age and has gonorrhea six times. He  now has arthritis. I talked with him at length about righteous living, the need of Christ, prayer, and the church. I told him that he was killing himself and if he did not quit his evil habits, he would eventually end up in an insane asylum. He said, "That is precisely my problem. I cannot feel sorry for the life I  have lived." I said to him, "In that case there is no hope for you." I tried to get him transferred to the Motor Pool."  

Chaplain Van was a straight shooter. This particular story is somewhat unique in the diaries because it shows him essentially throwing in the towel on this kid as he tells him there's no hope. 

What's amazing is that somehow Chaplain Van manages to administer justice, but not without mercy. Look at the last sentence. While he tells the kid that there's no hope for him (justice), he still acts on the kid's behalf (mercy): "I tried to get him transferred to the Motor Pool." 

One of the principle questions about Chaplain Van was how was he able to ascend the military ladder the way he was. Perhaps one answer is in this particular story. He administers the kind of justice that characterizes, or caricatures, his strict Calvinistic faith; but he tempers that justice with mercy--he tries to get the kid into the motor pool. Didn't work, but he tried. 

Here's another reason, perhaps.

April 9:

About 20 - 30 soldiers come to my office every day with problems, marital problems, checks to be cashed, etc. I have been in my office every night this week until 10:30 p.m. to deal with soldiers and their problems.

April 10:

During Easter services, my regiment had the largest church attendance of the entire division. Two hundred attended my 9:00 a.m. service and 150 the 11:00 service. I preached about the resurrection of Christ. Col Olson provided transportation for all those who wanted to attend chapel services. On Monday I went to the firing range and practiced shooting the 50 mm machine gun. 

Amazing juxtaposition, handled easily, it seems.

I keep remembering the stories told to me by Marcella LeBeau, an army nurse who, at this very time, was dealing with GIs who were so fraught with worry that they were incapable, emotionally, of doing anything. That any of these hundreds--in fact, thousands--of men could keep going, day-to-day, while waiting, patiently or impatiently, for a tomorrow that promised the kind of live action they've been forever training to handle, is amazing. On Easter Sunday, he says, wonderful large crowds of soldiers at both worship services; that afternoon he practiced using at 50 mm machine gun.

These immodest claims I found on-line:  

When we think of the firearms used by U.S. forces during World War II, the AN/M2 .50-caliber machine gun doesn’t exactly jump to the front of the line. Nevertheless, it was in action from Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941, through Aug. 18, 1945, when the gunners on two B-32 Dominators used it to fire America’s final shots of the conflict. During the 1,350 days in between, the .50-cal. AN/M2 served in the air, on land and at sea, and it was a part of every major battle in every theater of operations around the world. That is something that cannot be said about any other U.S. military firearm that was in service at the time.