The Saturnia, an Italian cruise liner, was recommissioned as a troop ship once Mussolini's reign ended in Italy. This is the Saturnia--Chaplain Van's transport for overseas duty.
At its most showy, it rivaled many luxury liners today, and it's size remains almost unimaginable (if you've never been on a cruise ship). Chaplain Van says it had a crew of 500 and carried 4500 GIs. Six chaplains were billeted in one of the ship's most exclusive rooms--"showers, wardrobe, air conditioning and an outside veranda."
Which prompts a sermon in the diary. During the two-week trip across, more little sermons appear than did so during training. But Chaplain Van's own lower middle-class Calvinism went to work on what he almost certainly thought of as excess, crass materialism in the chaplains' accommodations.
I was reminded of I Corinthians 1:19 "For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent."
This grand sailing ship now is simply a passenger train, which moves him to continue to preach.
The sinful world, according to its own fundamental principles of knowledge and science, has sought to build and develop apart from God. The results are discord, hatred, war and destruction. How many more wars must be fought before the world turns to God?
It's a rhetorical question.
July 27:
We are about 36 hours away from New York -- about 450 miles. It will be a long time before I will see my wife again.
One of few notes, thus far, about his wife. Then again, she'd been with him through long stretches of his training, living, often, in a nearby apartment.
July 28:
. . .The ocean is vast. We don't know where we are and where we are going. We live by faith and not by sight.
We have church services three times a day. Every chaplain must take his turn. Tonight Chaplain Lewis preached on John 3:16. A very orthodox sermon. The decks were crowded with soldiers. At the altar call several raised their hands.
We sang: "Rock of Ages", "What a Friend We Have in Jesus"; "The Church in the Wildwood", etc. Men of the Air Corps, sailors, soldiers, and officers all sang reverently.
I said to another chaplain "If this is the way Uncle Sam goes to war, then all is well with the nation."
It's an unusual twist for him, to assess the moral condition of the soldiers so warmly--much less the nation they represent--as, well, redeemed. Clearly, once again, it's music that brings out positive assessments in him, that keeps the ornery Calvinist at bay.
August 1:
It was my turn to give the sermon. I preached on Galatians 6:1-4. "But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." What an inspiration, especially under these circumstances, to see the decks loaded with soldiers and sailors.
August 3:
We had a submarine alert last night at 7:00 p.m. All the ships suddenly made a 90 degree turn to the North and the convoy scattered.
August 4:
We are now strung out in a straight line of ships for we are passing through a mine field.
August 5:
We are now anchored in the harbor of Liverpool. We will stay here until sometime Sunday. A large crowd assembled for Sunday services. The chaplains formed a choir. The singing was enthusiastic. When we sang "Blest be the Tie that Binds our Hearts in Christian Love", many soldiers sang with tears in their eyes.
August 6:
You shouldn't think he's gone through some awakening, however. Chaplain Van shows his Calvinistic colors when responding to a joke.
The ship is being unloaded now. At the port, an English colonel gave us a speech about England and the United States cooperating in the war effort. He said something I did not like. He said that President Roosevelt and Mr. Churchill came to the door of heaven and the door was locked. Roosevelt said to Churchill, "You break it down and I will pay for it.
It's not easy for Chaplain Van to take a joke; heaven and hell is not some goofy fantasy.
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