Captain Ernest W. S. Macdonald, Army Chaplain Gave His Life to Save Others.

"...Instead, he went below to help bring the injured men up on deck"

Quincy Chaplain Killed In War To Be Honored The Newington Town Congregational Church of Newington, New Hampshire will place a cathedral chair in the Chapel Of The Three Faiths, now nearing completion in Philadelphia, in memory of the late Rev. Ernest W. S. Macdonald of Quincy. The Chapel is being constructed to honor and commemorate all chaplains who, in the fulfillment of their duty, gave their lives in World War II. Rev. Macdonald is the son of Mrs. J. Ernest Macdonald of 177 Billings Road, North Quincy, and the late Mr. Macdonald. A native of Quincy, Rev. Mr. Macdonald began his education in Quincy schools. He prepared for college at Thayer Academy and due to his activities in the Order of De Molay was known to hundreds of young man on the South Shore, by whom he was affectionately called "Pat." After his graduation from Dalhousie university and Andover Newton School of theology, he was called to the Newington church, where he was ordained and began his ministry. In 1940, he accepted a call to Community Church in Garden City, Kansas., from which Parish he entered the service of his country. Just before leaving for overseas he was promoted to Captain. The ship to which he was assigned, the USS Henry R. Mallory, was torpedoed February 7th, 1943, while en route to Iceland. The ship carried a heavy cargo and 1,400 men, 202 of whom were saved. Sometime later, one of the survivors, George K. Dunningham of Winthrop, visited Captain Macdonald's parents. He told them of his having begged their son (whom he met in the companion way, after the torpedo hit the ship) to accompany him to a lifeboat. This, Captain Macdonald refused to do. Instead, he went below to help bring the injured men up on deck. In the chapel at Andover Newton Theological School there is a beautiful bronze memorial plaque for Captain Macdonald, placed there in 1946, by the members of his class. Also a student's reading room in the school is named for him. And in Community Church in Garden City, Kan., a group of young people active in charitable work is known as the Pat Macdonald club. Captain Macdonald's wife, the former Miss Kathryn Bagnall and it their two children, Gregory 11 and Heather 9, lived in Mrs. Macdonald's native city, Halifax, Nova Scotia. A sister, Mrs. Alen W. Ham Jr. lives in Abington.

Capt. Ernest W. S. Macdonald, Army Chaplain

Ernest Warburton Stewart “Pat” Macdonald was born on December 25, 1911 to John Ernest and Patience (Stewart) Macdonald in Boston, MA. John was born on November 19, 1881 in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada. John’s father was from Scotland and his mother was Canadian. Patience was born in Clyde River, Prince Edward Island in 1876. Both John and Patience emigrated from Canada to the United States, which is where they actually met. After John and Patience were married they made their home at 177 Billings Road in Quincy, Massachusetts. John Ernest was issued his Naturalization Card on January 10, 1944 by the State of Massachusetts. John and Patience had their first child, a daughter named Catherine, who was born about 1901. Catherine lived to be 17-years old and passed away from tuberculosis.

A second child born to John and Patience was a son was named Ernest Warburton Stewart, born on December 25, 1911. And lastly there was a daughter named Mabel who was born about 1916. In April of 1930 John, Patience, Ernest and Mabel were still living at 177 Billings Road in Quincy where John Ernest worked as a plumber to support his family. The 1930 Federal Census recorded the value of the home on Billings Avenue at $6,000, which was owned by John and Patience. Additionally the Census records show that the Macdonald’s did have one of the luxuries of the day, a radio set in the home.

Ernest had two middle names, Warburton Stewart. John Macdonald’s younger brother was named Warburton who had died at about the age of 20 back in Charlottetown, Canada and so Ernest took this name from the uncle he never knew. Ernest took the name of Stewart from his mother’s maiden name.

Young Ernest grew up in a hard working family structure and at some point in his youthful life felt the calling to serve in the ministry. After graduation from High School at Thayer Academy in Braintree, MA, Ernest Macdonald attended the Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, where in 1938 he earned a B. A. degree. While at Dalhousie, Ernest also took courses at the Pine Hill Divinity School for 3-years. Pine Hill Divinity School was run by the United Church and was also located in Halifax near Dalhousie. In 1971 the Pine Hill School merged and today is known as the Atlantic School of Theology and is located in the same buildings as the old Pine Hill School. Upon graduation from Dalhousie in 1938 Ernest attended Andover-Newton Theological School in Newton Centre, MA where in 1939 he earned his B. D. Degree.

Now with a Theological degree Rev. Ernest W. S. “Pat” Macdonald as a member of the Congregationalist Church began his ministerial career at the Newington Congregationalist Church in Newington, New Hampshire. As Rev. Macdonald was called to serve the Newington Church, it was here that upon graduation from Dalhousie, he was ordained and began his first pastorate, in which he would serve from 1938-1940.

During the summer of 1940, Rev. Marvin Brown, the pastor at the Community Congregationalist Church in Garden City, Kansas, left his church and entered service into the Army’s Corps of Chaplains as a Major. Rev. Ernest “Pat” Macdonald was then called upon to fill the vacancy at Community Church in Garden City, Kansas, left by Rev. Brown. And so Rev. Macdonald moved his family to Garden City, Kansas to begin his second pastorate.

While at the Garden City church, Rev. “Pat” Macdonald was a very popular minister. At the Community Church a young people’s group was started and was named “The Macdonald’s Club” in honor of the popular “Rev. Pat.”

Rev. Macdonald was a man of great character and so when America was pulled into the war in December of 1941 he felt the call to serve his Country just as he was serving in his ministry. And so in this light Rev. Macdonald on April 22, 1942 enlisted into the Army Corps of Chaplains just as Major Rev. Marvin Brown had done before him two-years previous.

On April 23, 1942 Rev. “Pat” Macdonald bid farewell to his church in Garden City, Kansas and left for training at Ft. Benjamin Harrison near Indianapolis, Indiana. After training he was sent to serve in Oregon for a short while before he was called to serve in Europe.

When 1st Lt. Ernest Macdonald left his church in Garden City he did not know what fate had in store for him, but he knew that faith in the God he served would carry him through whatever lay ahead of him. After entering the Corps of Chaplains his wife Katherine B. Macdonald and their two children, Gregory and Heather went back to Wollaston, MA to live.

While Lt. Macdonald was in the Army he was assigned to the 9th Service Command. Shortly before being ordered to New York where he would sail from he was promoted to the rank of Captain.

Captain “Pat” Macdonald sailed to Iceland aboard the transport USS Henry R. Mallory, a trip that never made it to their intended destination but Captain Macdonald would do his intended duty in giving aid and comfort and his life to his fellow shipmates during their time in need. Captain Macdonald gave his life on Sunday, February 7, 1943 along four other of the seven chaplains aboard the Mallory. The Chaplains who perished that day were; Captain David H. Youngdahl; 1st Lt. Fr. Valmore Savignac; 1st Lt. Horace E. Gravely and 1st Lt. James E. Liston. Two other chaplains were saved that day, Chaplains Ira Bentley and G. J. Whelan.

It was not until the 29th of July 1943, almost six and a half months after the sinking that Captain Macdonald’s wife Katherine was notified that her husband and father of her two children was missing and presumed dead. On 29 July 1943 Captain Macdonald’s parents were sent this letter from the War Department:

While aboard the Mallory Captain Macdonald met one of the Mallory’s cooks named George Dunningham. He was a member of the Mallory’s Merchant Marines and Dunningham and his dog, named “Ricky” both survived the sinking. Captain Macdonald may have given comfort to Dunningham or it was the Captain’s great example of courage in the face of danger that was impressed upon Dunningham, we will never know for sure. But, it is enough to say that after the rescue of the men from the Mallory and Dunningham was back in the states, he went to see the Captains parents, John and Patience, to tell them about what had happened to their son on the awful Sunday morning. Captain Ernest W. S. “Pat” Macdonald was awarded the Purple Heart posthumously later during the war.

In late summer 1944 Captain Macdonald’s mother, Patience had written to the President of Iceland asking about her son. President Sveinn Björnsson then contacted Major General William S. Key, USA the Commanding officer of the Iceland Base with the request from Mrs. Macdonald. General key then wrote back to Mrs. Macdonald with this letter:

After the war and Captain Macdonald had been declared dead, his widow Katherine and the children Gregory and Heather who had been living in Wollaston, Massachusetts eventually moved to England where Katherine remarried. She married a former British Royal Navy Lt. Commander, Robert J. Barcham. Katherine Macdonald Barcham lived the rest of her life in England and passed away in April of 1991. Heather Macdonald Moe, who shared the newspaper articles and photo is the daughter of Gregory Macdonald and granddaughter of Captain Ernest Macdonald.

During the same convoy that the Mallory was traveling in was another ship named the USS Dorchester in which were 4 Chaplains who lost their lives when the Dorchester was torpedoed and sank four days before the Mallory entered the same fate. Aboard the Dorchester, her 4 Chaplains displayed the same courage as the Chaplains aboard the Mallory did during their final moments of impending doom. The Dorchester’s chaplains all gave their lives and this was a story that caught the attention of the nation at the time. After the war a chapel, known as The Chapel of the 4 Chaplains, was dedicated to remember all chaplains who gave the ultimate sacrifice during the war. Captain Macdonald’s first church, the Newington Congregational Church placed an alter chair in the Chapel of the 4 Chaplains in honor of their departed friend and pastor Captain Macdonald. There is also in the chapel at Andover-Newton Theological School, a bronze plaque placed in memory of Captain Macdonald by his former classmates. The plaque on the right is the bronze plaque that was placed by Chaplain Macdonald’s classmates at Andover-Newton Theological School, which is located in the Colby Chapel. It is written in Latin and the top half is dedicated to Chaplain Macdonald of the class of 1939, with the bottom half in memory to Dietrich F. E. Rasetzki, of the class of 1941, who was a 1st Lieutenant in the Army. He was killed in action on July 25, 1944, and his body was finally laid to rest in the Long Island National Cemetery on May 20, 1948.

1st Lt. Fr. Valmore G. Savignac, U.S. Army Chaplain

...he would enter combat armed only with a set of rosary beads a bible and a communion set...

Valmore G. Savignac was born on April 26, 1911 in Providence Rhode Island. Valmore’s father was a French-Canadian who immigrated the Rhode Island about 1890. His name was John Valmore Savignac and young Valmore took his first name from his father’s middle name. John Savignac in 1910 had made his home in Providence, RI where he had taken a job as a policeman for the city of Providence. About four years previous, on June 20, 1906 John had married, and her name was Annie P. born about 1882 in Rhode Island. John and Annie started their family when their first child was born, a daughter named Mary E. born in May of 1908. Another daughter named Anna E., who was born about September 1909, followed this and on April 26, 1911 Valmore G. the first son was born. And lastly another daughter named Rita was born sometime in 1915. All four of the Savignac children were born in Providence, RI. Annie P. Savignac passed away on January 2, 1921 and her husband John Valmore Savignac passed away on November 4, 1928. Sometime after Annie P. died John remarried to a woman named Mary who was born in Rhode Island about 1888. John and Annie and the children had made their home at 839 Atwell Avenue in Providence and when John remarried to Mary they still lived in the same house on Atwell Ave. After John’s death in 1928 Mary his widow still kept the house, which was owned by John and valued at $5,100. By April of 1930 Mary was still living there in the house on Atwell Ave., but the eldest daughter of John and Annie, also named Mary who would have been 22-years old at the time had moved out of the house. Mary the stepmother supported John’s remaining children, Anna, Valmore and Rita, by working as a department store bookkeeper. Anna the second eldest daughter who was 20-years old at the time was working as a nurse in a local Providence hospital.

1st Lt. Fr. Valmore G. Savignac

At the age of 17-years Valmore G. Savignac around the time of his father’s death in 1928 began attending the LaSalle Academy in Providence. This was an all boys’ college prep school in downtown Providence that served the Cathedral and Saint John Parishes. Here Valmore’s Roman Catholic upbringing were to be enriched and would propel him to become a Catholic Chaplain in the Army, a career in which he one day would give his life for his fellow shipmates.

After graduation from LaSalle Academy, Valmore attended the Providence College for 2 years of studies. Valmore went on to get his bachelors degree from the House of Philosophy in 1932 and then went on to the Grand Seminary in Montreal, Canada where he graduated in 1936 with an S.T.B. and S.T.L. degree.

It is not known for sure why Valmore entered service into the Army. It may have been from the example of his father, John who was a public servant as a policeman in Providence, or it may have been due to his father could have served in the military during WWI, as it is known that John Savignac did register for the draft on September 12, 1918, and likely could have served then. But whatever it was that called Valmore to serve his fellow man, Valmore on June 9, 1942 enlisted into the Army Chaplain Corps at Oakland Beach, Rhode Island. On June 20, 1942, 1st Lt. Valmore G. Savignac reported Ft. Eustis, Virginia. He was later assigned to Camp Myles Standish in Massachusetts.

As 1943 began a new year of war, Lt. Savignac was called on for duty in Europe. This would mean duty on the battlefield where he would enter combat armed only with a set of rosary beads a bible and a communion set. He was going where his services to his fellow men were desperately needed. A duty that had to be done and Valmore knew he was called on by a higher power to do it.

Orders came about the middle of January 1943 and by the 23rd of January, 1st Lt. Valmore G. Savignac was one of several Chaplains sailing aboard the transport USS Henry R. Mallory. This trip would be chaplain Savignac’s one and only combat experience, as his convoy of 61 ships was sailing into a blood bath at the hands of the German U-boat crews. There was no way the men aboard the Mallory could know their fates as they sailed past the Statue of Liberty for the last time.

It is not known how Lt. Savignac’s final hours came to a close but at least two of the chaplains aboard the Mallory gave their lives so that others may live. Lt. Savignac along with 4 other Chaplains aboard the Mallory perished that morning in February.

Valmore G. Savignac, the son of a policeman was killed in action on February 7, 1943 and was awarded the Purple Heart posthumously. His family was notified of his missing in action status about a month after the sinking and then as per law was declared dead one year and a day after the sinking on February 8, 1944. During WWII, Fr. Valmore G. Savignac, 1st Lt. Army Chaplain Corps was the first chaplain killed in action during the war from the state of Rhode Island.

Chaplain 1st Lt. James M. Liston

"He and Father Liston were together talking while drinking coffee at the moment of the impact of the torpedo"

In Arlington National Cemetery on Chaplain’s Hill there is a stone with a large bronze plaque, which commemorates the names of 83 Catholic Chaplains, who gave their lives in service to their fellow soldiers, sailors and marines as well as their God and country. Of the 83 Chaplains 77 were killed during WWII alone. Among the 83 names on this bronze plaque appears the name of James M. Liston. He was a Roman Catholic Chaplain serving as a 1st Lieutenant in the United States Army Chaplain Corps.

James M. Liston was a native of the Chicago area and was born on 16 September 1905 in Chicago. Liston was a first generation Irish Catholic and was the eldest son of James Joseph and Margaret Liston. His parents, James Joseph and Margaret, were born in Ireland and had married about 1901 or 1902. James Joseph Liston was born in Ireland on March 14, 1880 and was a medium built man with blue eyes and brown hair. It’s likely he and Margaret were married in Ireland and then in 1902 immigrated to the United States, both obtaining their citizenship in November of 1907.

The Liston’s made their way to Chicago where they would settle down to start a family in their new Country. During 1910 the family home was located on Morgan Street in Chicago where James Joseph worked as a streetcar conductor. By then the family had already grown to include eldest son James M. Liston born in 1905, second son John J. born in 1908 and a third son William born about 1909. Also living in the home were James Joseph’s two brothers, Dennis who was 26-years old and Patrick who was 22-years old. Both brothers were single and had only come to the States the year before sometime in 1909. Dennis worked as a streetcar motorman and Patrick was a bartender in true Irish fashion. Additionally in the Liston home lived Margaret’s sister, Ellen Noonan. She was 32-years old, single and worked as a dressmaker.

By the beginning of 1920 the James Joseph Liston family had now grown to include a daughter named Anna M. born in 1911 and another son named Thomas born in 1914. The family now lived at 7116 Green St. in Chicago in a home which James and Margaret owned. James M., the eldest son attended the Quigley Preparatory Seminary and graduated there in 1925. The Archbishop Quigley Preparatory Seminary was a high school administered by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago for young men considering the priesthood. Located in downtown Chicago, Illinois at 103 East Chestnut Street adjacent to Loyola University Chicago and near Water Tower Place, it has since closed in 2007, and now serves as the Pastoral Center and headquarters of the Archdiocese after being renovatied. So before James M. Liston had graduated high school he already had the calling into the priesthood.

James M. Liston went on to attend and graduate from St. Mary of the Lake Seminary in 1931. University of Saint Mary of the Lake, also called Mundelein Seminary, is the principal seminary and school of theology for the formation of priests in the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago. Now ordained in the Roman Catholic Church Father James M. Liston began his ministry. It will never be known exactly what called Father Liston to enter the Army Chaplain Corps, but it was likely that he may have been present at the Archbishop Quigley Preparatory Seminary on May 18, 1937, when Cardinal Mundelein, speaking to 500 priests during a quarterly diocesan conference, lashed out at Nazi leaders Adolf Hitler, Joseph Goebbels and Hermann Goering for using the pretext of "immorality" and sexual scandals to attack Catholic religious orders, organizations, and German Catholic schools, which at the time educated two million children. Mundelein championed Quigley, and personally recruited Catholic families to send their sons into the priesthood. We will never know but it may have been Mundelein’s famous speech at Quigley where he called Hitler a “Paperhanger” that moved Father Liston to join the Army Chaplain Corps.

In Naperville, Illinois on 22 April 1942 Father James M. Liston entered the U.S. Army. He was given the rank of 1st Lt. and his service number was O-462 733. His first assignment in 1942 was at Camp Croft, South Carolina. Orders finally came for Chaplain Liston to be assigned to duty in Iceland in late 1942 and by the end of January 1943 he found himself along with 6 other chaplains sailing on the Henry R. Mallory bound for Iceland. Chaplain Liston was not among the men rescued from the sinking of the Mallory but his body was identified along with Alfred Wolf of the Naval Armed Guard. Both were already dead from the effects of the cold water. Due to the pressing need to get the men who were alive there was no time to recover those who had already perished.

On the evening of February 6th, the evening of the disaster the Chaplains aboard held a service for the men. In the words of Wilson Flartey one of the Mallory’s survivors he relates of the service that evening; “Word was passed that there would be a prayer meeting in the mess hall at 1900 hrs. Several of us decided to attend. The leader of the meeting was a chaplain, denomination unknown. His sermon was on the Lord’s Prayer. He took the prayer phrase by phrase and explained its meaning. The phrase ‘Thy will be done’ made a particularly strong impression on me. After the meeting we went below to our quarters. It was soon time to turn in.” It can’t be said for sure if the leader of this prayer meeting was Father Liston but this was an example of the work that the Chaplains did on board the ship to help the men from their fears.

About the time the torpedo struck Tom Sullivan was getting a cup of coffee. He and Father Liston were together talking while drinking coffee at the moment of the impact of the torpedo. In Sullivan’s words “There was no mistaking the fact that the Mallory had sustained a finishing attack.”

Another example of how the Chaplains were always looking out for the men was told by Manny Silvia. He had been waiting until the Mallory had almost gone under before leaving her. As the side of the Mallory got lower and lower in the water a Chaplain came over to Silvia and gave him a chocolate bar saying ‘you might need this.’ Eventually Silvia was able to walk right off the side of the ship from where he was standing into the water. Silvia started to swim and watched the Mallory go under. He swam to some wreckage where several others were clinging. The energy Silvia used to swim to the wreckage may have come from the chocolate bar given to him by the unknown Chaplain.

Back home in Chicago on August 3, 1943 a letter from the War Department arrived at 6613 S. Honore St. addressed to Mr. And Mrs. James Joseph Liston informing them that their son 1st Lt. James M. Liston, O462733, United States Army, Chaplain Corps gave his life on February 7, 1943. Father Liston is forever on duty giving aid and comfort to all who wear the uniform of this great country. Chaplain Liston was awarded the Purple Heart posthumously.

Captain David H. Youngdahl, Chaplain, US Army Chaplain Corps

"...Chaplain Youngdahl’s battlefield was the very ship he was sailing in"

Captain David Youngdahl, Chaplain, shown here in this photo as a 1st Lt.

In Swanville, Minnesota on 16 February 1905, two Swedish immigrants had a child named David H. Youngdahl. This young boy would one day enter the ministry and serve his country. It would be a journey that would take him far from his Swedish roots and far from Minnesota. It would be a journey that would end some 38-years later and 500 miles southwest of Iceland in the middle of the cold deadly North Atlantic Ocean. Little is known of David H. Youngdahl except that he was attending and graduated in 1930 with a Bachelors of Theology degree from the Bethel Theological Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. After graduating from Bethel, by April of 1930 he was, according to the Federal Census, a licensed Clergyman in a Baptist Church in New Richmond, Wisconsin. He was at the time 25-years of age and single. This was likely the First Baptist Church in New Richmond and he may have been the Pastor there or may have been an assistant pastor. Within a short time Mr. Youngdahl had moved to the state of Washington where he attended the Seattle Pacific College and earned a B. A. degree in 1933. The following year he again moved, this time to Berkeley, California where he attended the Berkeley Baptist Divinity School, earning a B.D. degree in 1934. According to the California Voter Register, there was living at No. 15 Dearborn Street a single man named David H. Youngdahl. He was a minister and also listed as a Republican. David Youngdahl would live at No. 15 Dearborn until sometime in 1936 when he moved to No. 32 Dearborn Street. This was due to his marriage to Charlotte C. Bridge, his new wife. On January 22, 1937 a son named Samuel David Youngdahl was born. David, Charlotte and Samuel would live at No. 32 Dearborn at least through 1938 or 1939. On the California Voter Registration list for 1940, David H. Youngdahl is listed alone living back at No. 15 Dearborn Street. It is not known why in 1940 that Charlotte is not listed with David in fact she is not listed at all. David is still on the 1940 Voter list recorded as being a minister. Nothing more is known about Charlotte or her son, Samuel except the last known address of 2104 Hollister Avenue in Santa Barbara, California. This was the address Mr. Youngdahl gave in April 1942 as next of kin when he joined the Army.

As America in December of 1941, entered into the growing war, David H. Youngdahl was called to serve in the Military and on 8 April 1942 entered the army at San Francisco, California. David Youngdahl entered into the Army Chaplain Corps at the rank of First Lieutenant and was given his service number of O448376. He was assigned to the 53rd Field Artillery Regiment then located at Camp Myles Standish, in Taunton, Massachusetts, as Chaplain in early 1942.

Sometime shortly before he was assigned to duty in Iceland, Lt. Youngdahl was promoted to the rank of Captain. His transportation there was to be on the USS Henry R. Mallory. She was a veteran of many wartime crossings, both during the First World War and the present War. Once aboard ship Chaplain Youngdahl could not know that his life would end within days of seeing the Statue of Liberty grow ever faint on the horizon as the Mallory sailed eastward.

It is likely that Chaplain Youngdahl thought he would see combat on the continent of Europe where he would be needed to help his fellow soldiers in battle on the soil of France and Germany. But Chaplain Youngdahl’s battlefield was the very ship he was sailing in. It was a battle in which he would not be able to leave with his life for at 0358 hours on Sunday morning February 7, 1943 the battle came to the men aboard the Mallory. There were 7 Chaplains aboard the Mallory this trip and the Chaplain’s would render much needed aid and comfort to the men aboard the doomed Mallory. Only two Chaplains would survive the day. Captain David H. Youngdahl would not be among the two Chaplains saved and the exact moment that his life ended is not known, but his body was not recovered.

The angry icy waters of the North Atlantic claimed her quota that day. According to rescue reports from the Coast Guard Cutter USCGC Bibb, there simply was not enough time to gather all the dead bodies in the water. The Bibb’s Captain had to give the unthinkable order that dead men were not to be brought aboard due to the fact that German U-boats were still in the area and as the Bibb lay still picking up living survivors she was an inviting and easy target for the Germans, which would have made for an even larger disaster then was before them at that moment had the Bibb been torpedoed herself.

Back in Santa Barbara, California on 3 August 1943 a letter from the Chief of Chaplains arrived at 2104 Hollister Avenue. Charlotte C. Youngdahl opens and reads for the first time that her husband and father to her son Samuel, was killed in action aboard the ship he was traveling on. Captain David H. Youngdahl, O448376, Northern Baptist Chaplain, US Army Chaplain Corps was awarded the Purple Heart Posthumously on 9 August 1945 and his name appears on the monument in Cambridge, England inscribed with the names of the men Missing in Action or Lost at Sea.

Chaplain, Father Gerald J. Whelan

"...I said ‘Joe, lets you and me start saying a rosary. We need help"

Father Gerald J. Whelan

On board the Mallory were 7 Army Chaplains, two of who would survive the sinking. All seven chaplains showed great courage in giving aid and comfort to the men aboard the Mallory. Father Gerald J. Whelan was one of the two chaplains to survive the icy cold waters that day. Chaplain Whelan made his way to one of the lifeboats where he heard someone calling in an Irish voice “Jump Father, jump!” Father Whelan did just that and once in the lifeboat he found another man named Joe Reilly who was from Gloucester, Massachusetts. Reilly and Whelan were both from Massachusetts and had become friends in the days before the sinking and it was Reilly calling to Father Whelan to jump into the lifeboat. Father Whelan described his ordeal of getting into the boat and away from the sinking Mallory. “I knew he [Joe Reilly] would know how to run a boat because every mother who gives birth to a boy in Gloucester takes him down to sea immediately and gives him oarlocks. I said he would run the boat and the rest of us would take orders from him. He found the sea anchor, which helped keep our boat into the seas. He closed the seacock, which had been letting in water by the bucketfuls. We also had two poor Marines, legs broken, their faces damaged badly. How they got into the boat I don’t know, but someone should have gotten the Soldier’s Medal for their rescue. I said ‘Joe, lets you and me start saying a rosary. We need help. I don’t know whether you guys have ever heard of the Blessed Mother of Christ, but Reilly and I have and some of you guys are Catholics. I can’t make you out in the darkness, but if you’ll be quiet and join in with us, and promise to change your lives if they need changing, we will be picked up.” For the next four and a half hours Father Whelan and the men in his boat said rosary until the USCGC Bibb picked them up. Gerald’s father was born in Massachusetts and his mother was born in Nova Scotia, Canada. Gerald J. Whelan was truly a gift from God as he was born on Christmas Day of 1906. Early on Christmas morning Gerald’s older brother was said to have crept downstairs to see what Santa had brought him, he found a little brother all wrapped up in blankets and said “Heck, I never asked Santa for that!” Young Gerald or “Gerry” as he was known grew up just as any other Catholic kid did in the Boston area. There were many scrub-games of baseball at the corner lot, Mass, snowball fights, organ lessons, Mass, ice-cream soda at the drug store after school, and the ever present Mass. But it was said that during the summer of 1920 when Gerry Whelan decided to become a Redemptorist many in the old neighborhood thought he’d be back by Christmas. But Gerry never looked back as he knew his calling. Gerry always had a special way about him making all feel at home with him and he always made it a point to be jolly with all who he met. Music seemed to be in Gerry’s blood also, as he was a very good coronet player and could play the piano by ear.

The story of Father Gerald J. Whelan can be told starting from a handwritten manuscript in his own hand. This came from his personal records held at the Redemptorist Provincial Archives, Baltimore Province Our Lady of Good Counsel, located in Brooklyn, NY. In this manuscript written in 1927 Father Whelan describes his early years.

Once Gerald Whelan was ordained on June 16, 1932 he was part of the Redemptorist Order and served at the Mission Church in Roxbury, MA. As the United States entered into the WWII years, Father Whelan felt his call to serve his fellow Americans in the Military and so he became an Army Chaplain in the Catholic faith. On February 20, 1942 he was commissioned into the Army at the rank of 1st Lieutenant and his service number of O438840 was assigned to him. On December 3, 1942 he was advanced to the rank of Captain. His first assignment in the army was at Shaw Field Basic Flying School located near Sumpter, South Carolina. Father Whelan would serve here from March 9, 1942 through December 20, 1942.

While at Shaw Field Whelan writes to a young student back home who asked him how he liked the Army and Father Whelan replied back to him with this letter. “I like the Army not because it is different from religious life, but because it is so like it. The monotony of doing things over and over gets some lads down, but as a Redemptorist I’ve been doing things over and over since I was thirteen. Obedience to orders… nothing new to a religious! Living together with a crowd of men; eating, sleeping and finding amusement together; that has been my life for more than twenty-two years. No, there are no extreme readjustments needed to pass from religious into military life.”

Father Whelan tells of his approach with meeting the men at Shaw Field; “Whenever I meet a lad for the first time, after a few preliminary pleasantries, I inquire what his religion is; then if he goes to church. This to all, Jews, Protestant and Catholic alike, and my next question is why not?” He soon knew great numbers of enlisted men by name, and they liked him all the more for it. Father Whelan had a good sense of humor too as he stated in a letter home. “Just discovered that we officers must put in three hours of intensive drill daily. Boy at my tender age of 35 it will kill me. It has been three years at least since I’ve done anything more violent than brush my teeth.” But the fact was he was fit as a fiddle from being an active participant in playing sports.

By December of 1943 he was made Captain and shortly after was transferred to Camp Myles Standish at Taunton, MA. Very soon he would be sent overseas. Now he was back near his home in Roxbury and in early January 1943 he was given orders to sail to Iceland. So one night before sailing he walked back to the Mission Church, his church and stood before the shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. He knelt down for a few moments thinking how his mother had knelt there some thirty-six years before on a Christmas Eve, the night before he was born. He rose to his feet, stole one last look at the miraculous picture and said his “good bye” for the next day he was to ship out.

That evening Father Whelan went home to pay his respects to the family. And with him he had four guests, Father Jim Liston who would sail with him on the Mallory and Father John Washington who would sail on the Dorchester. Liston would be killed on the Mallory and Washington would be killed when the Dorchester was sunk. Father Washington would also be one of the four famous Chaplains that were immortalized on the Postage Stamp after the war. Also there were two other doctors who came along to the Whelan home. All four men were friends from Camp Myles Standish. As the evening of song and chatting and eating cookies wore on at the Whelan home it soon enough became time for that usual kiss and hug goodbye to his mother. Father Whelan simply said “I’ll be seeing you,” and they were off back to Camp Standish. Father Whelan knew he was shipping out in the morning but kept this secret to himself, not wanting to worry the family or his wonderful mother.

The next morning Fathers Whelan and Liston boarded the Mallory and there they found five other chaplains, and of the seven chaplains aboard only two would survive the voyage. Chaplain Ira Bentley and Father Whelan would be the lucky two.

During the voyage on the Mallory the Chaplains were kept busy in getting to know the men, and cheering up the downcast youngsters and hearing confessions. In the days before the sinking Father Whelan had been working with a group of 3 boys who he had been trying to bring back to the faith without much success. But a night or so before the sinking Whelan had bumped into the group quite by accident and he inquired with them “How about tonight, I’ll be hearing confessions for tomorrow.” Two of the boys agreed but the third put it off. The conversation with the three boys went something like this. “Better play safe, Bud, see those two planes wheeling around up there. That’s Jerry! And sure as guns by morning there’ll be subs on our scent.” But the third boy replied, “Nope, I’ll go when we get on shore.”

One of the three boys said to Father Whelan, “Say, Padre, tomorrow’s the day you know.” This redheaded Seaman First Class had been taking instructions in the Faith from Father Whelan since they had sailed, and tomorrow he was going to be baptized and make his first Communion. Father Whelan replied back to him, “Right you are Ken, right before Mass.” That evening Father Whelan had said the rosary with several groups of men in several parts of the ship. He had even gone to Confession himself with one of the other catholic Chaplains aboard. As the evening wore on Father Whelan lay in his bunk fully clothed as he was supposed to. The steady pounding of the ships engines rocked him to sleep. But that morning at 03:58 hours it happened, they were attacked.

Once the good Father Whelan was rescued and on board the Bibb, he had a visitor. One of the Mallory’s survivors, a redheaded seaman named Ken. “Remember me, Padre?” asked the seaman. Father Whelan replied with “Sure do Ken. And I think we have a little date for this morning,” almost as if he had expected Ken to be there. And so right there before Mass Father Whelan and Ken went down to the Bibb’s boiler room for water and there baptized the red-headed seaman. As the Bibb’s men watched they were chatting afterwards with Father Whelan. One was said to have said, “Do you know something. Picking you up wasn’t in our orders. We were to hunt that sub and slug it with depth bombs. God only knows what made the captain change his mind and take you guys on.” Father Whelan did not say anything. But later in a letter to his superiors he writes “No I did not even get a head cold for our escapade. But believe you me, Our Lady of Perpetual Help was there in person.” And back at home Father Whelan’s mother was said to have been kneeling at the alter before Our Lady of Perpetual Help on Sunday morning the day of the sinking, just as she had been doing the night before Father Whelan was born. I think it was God who made captain Raney stop the Bibb that morning to rescue the men of the Mallory.

Back home the Whelan family was unaware of the disaster. But when his first letter arrived home after his rescue there was only a slight hint that something terrible had happened. He writes, “Everything here is OK. This is a hospital and there is much to do. I am kept real busy, …the scenery here is very rugged and awe-inspiring.” It was only in the last sentence of his letter that there was the slightest hint of something, “I would like some Novena booklets and a picture of Perpetual Help, I lost all I had.”

But in the weeks that followed the sinking, small little bits of information started to get back to the family in Roxbury. In one letter Father Whelan writes back home he says, “Sorry you have heard of our escapade. No sense in worrying you. But I do owe my safety to Perpetual Help. Keep up the praying.” But back home there was the thought that Father Whelan was hurt and in the hospital, or had a leg amputated or any number of horrible things the family could think of. But in another letter written from Iceland to a church member Father Whelan sets the records straight in his special humorous way. “I hear there are rumors about that I am in a bad way; that I’ve lost my legs, etc. Please quash them, for I am in the best of health. Matter of fact, I was playing softball last night, and we won too; pretty good for a guy with no legs!”

Four months after the sinking in June was the first time he could tell the family where he was, but the family had guessed it weeks back. Again he writes, “As you already have surmised, I’m in Iceland. And so you are having hot weather, well here on the balmiest days we wear sweaters or field jackets. There is some law up here that the citizens during the summer months must wear light summer clothing, regardless of the temperature. A few days ago en route to Mass in a Jeep, I spied a lad strolling along the hard beach in bathing trunks. And myself and the driver, near frozen to death! They must have tough hides or darn great imaginations!” Still in another letter he stated that he “has not seen a shrub or a tree in six months!”

Father Whelan’s mother had written him while stationed in Iceland reminding him to drink lots of milk as any good mother would. In a return letter he writes “Ma, I got a kick out of your advice to drink lots of milk. Do you think you could capture a few fat cows and send them over. But we do get some milk occasionally!”

In excerpts from several letters home Father Whelan gives some hints how live in Iceland was during the war years. In May he writes; “I say Mass at eight, nine, and ten-thirty with confessions before and after each Mass. And to each of them soldiers come in trucks from all sorts of places, and in all kinds of weather, and I do mean weather! This place is unique. It is not a garrison with a nearby town or Post Exchange, where the lads could drop in for a snack of breakfast after receiving. Some of these spots are twenty and thirty miles from the nearest camp or town. But the spirit of the men is marvelous. It would put priests and people in the States to shame.”

And in another letter from June he writes; “I met a couple of Gobs [slang term for navy men] in town last week. They were from New York and were tickled pink to meet up with a priest, as they hadn’t seen one in months. This is a great place for converts. I am here at a General Hospital, which is more or less central, and the boys know I’m here they drop in at any time. They have plenty of time to think up here, perhaps for the first time in their lives. Our chapel is being enlarged to accommodate attendance.”

Part of his Christmas letter back home contained this passage, “Hope you all had a Merry Christmas. We did. Can’t tell the number present for Midnight Mass but it exceeded my wildest expectations. At 11:30 I directed the choir in Christmas carols (I felt like Crosby, though perhaps I sounded like Durante!) The choir sang the Mass and after Benediction, the whole crowd chimed in on the ‘Holy God’ and almost raised the roof of the hanger! It was a white Christmas, and no dreaming! It was snowing before midnight, and after Mass the Northern Lights set up their own Christmas decorations.”

Thirty-one years after the sinking, Father Whelan is with several close friends in Jacksonville, Florida. One of the friends is another priest by the name of Father James J. Galvin, who has with him a cassette tape recorder. He records the conversations with Father Whelan about the events of the voyage, sinking and life after the rescue. This taped conversation was transcribed by Father Galvin and from his notes this is Father Whelan’s story of the sinking of the Mallory and events associated with it.

Father Whelan comments to the group listening to him. “And the only other chaplain that made it was a Baptist [Chaplain Ira Bentley]. He used to sleep with his clothes on, which you’re supposed to. But it was to dam hot! And I was the ranking officer. It was to dam hot when they battened down the hatches! When we were hit I immediately woke up, made and act of Contrition and gave General Absolution to all aboard. He [Bentley] leaped out. Them guys had to go thru our cabin, running like hell! Where the hell are you going I yelled. Then I grabbed the other Chaplain by the back, where the hell are you going, Ira? ‘Why? Cause I want to get off.’ Ira answered back to Father Whelan. “Wait I yelled you’ll be drowned.”

“The waves were 30 to 40 feet high.” Father Whelan described how those in his lifeboat pitched so high on the crest of the icy wave, and in his words, “that we could look down on the skipper, [Commander Roy Raney of the USCGC Bibb] bull-horn in hand up on the bridge of our rescue ship, that’s a good 35 feet out of the water! And then we drop down to a point where you could see the ship’s belly and the screw propellers churning empty air. We could hear his voice bellowing over the bull-horn... ’If you’re able, grab the railing as we go by; if not wait till we throw you a rope.’” Father Whelan continues. “And everyone near me was saying to me ‘Go ahead Father!’ So we got the two marines off first. Meanwhile they were urging ‘Go ahead Father’ until we heard a ear-splitting command from the bull-horn” It was Commander Raney’s voice ‘For Christ’s sakes, somebody grab the rail!’ “So I grabbed the rail and landed with a thud. Geeze my hands were frozen and I thought ‘there go my legs!’ A big Lieutenant from North Carolina, his name was Heaney, grabbed me by the seat of the pants and dropped me on the deck. Anyways they take me inside give me warm clothing, give us a shot of booze and I went back and anointed everything that was there. They strapped me to a stanchion post.”

Shortly after being rescued and safe inside the Bibb, Father Whelan is enjoying the “shot of Booze” given to those rescued from the water. Father Whelan in his special way of telling the story continues with what happened. “But there was a guy named McCarthy who was the Second Engineer [on the Mallory], he picked up the canteen and said ‘You know Father, if we ever go over the side the Coast Guard don’t give any of this dam stuff. If we get to dry land, can I have this one?’ I said to him, you might be interested; it’s filled with Bourbon. He said ‘Jeepers, Bourbon!’ They hadn’t had a drink in 3 months. So I never saw the canister again!”

It was said of Father Whelan that he was a great storyteller and could over the years bring the facts together and that the experience of surviving the sinking of the Mallory was forever connected to him and all that he did from that moment on. He continued with this part of the story that took place years after the sinking. “The aftermath of this... I’m giving a Sacred Heart Novena up in Parkchester [New York], and I, well at sea I’d made a vow that if I lived I’d never miss a chance to tell of the tremendous power of the Blessed Mother. I brought the story of the rescue in during the last talk, just in passing. Afterwards I hear confessions, and this girl came in and after her confession she said, ‘You wouldn’t be the Father Whelan that gave my brother a quart of Old Taylor up in the North Atlantic?’ And he said to her, “Is your name McCarthy?” She said, “Yes.” Father Whelan responded to her “Well, I’m he.” Whelan sense of humor was legendary and he ends that story with “I’ll bet he still tells that story in every joint and gin mill in Westchester!”

Luke Doheney, one of the others gathered in Jacksonville, Florida to hear Father Whelan’s story in 1974 asked him a question to keep him on track in telling the Mallory story. Father Whelan was also famous for digressions in his story telling. Luke Doheney asks this question to Father Whelan. “How could you hear the screws of the sub?” Father Whelan commented, “Yes, we were hit on the starboard side, right on the water level.”

Again digressing somewhat Father Whelan told how the Third Mate of the Mallory, during the days before the attack, had said to Father James Liston, one of the other Catholic Chaplains on the Mallory that trip, “Cripes Father put on your clothes. They’re right out there. You can hear them!” Father Liston replied back. “Cripes. It’s too dam hot!” Father Whelan always a good Catholic knew who his flock was and interjected that this Third Mate was a guy from Jamaica Plains, New York and had come back to the Sacraments after 20 years!

Continuing on Whelan recounts, “We used to say the rosary every night at Nine O’clock. Then that same night we said the rosary again, as there was General Quarters at 2300 hours. Everyone had to go to his station. Then things quieted down. And then we said the rosary again, the four of us Father Liston, Father Savignac, and... I can’t think of his name. He came from Taylorville, Illinois. [In fact this was 2nd Lt. John “Jack” T. Stokes USA Medical Administration Corps] Whelan continued, “He was a real saint. I’d heard his confession. He never lost his baptismal innocence! And if you met the guy, you’d think he was a rough tough son of a seacook. The last I saw of him I said “Hi Jack” and he said ‘Hi Father, what shall we do?’ Father Whelan’s reply was “Let’s get the hell off this!” At the time the Mallory was listing badly.

Father Whelan spoke about the lack of proper training for disasters at sea by the passengers as none of them were properly instructed. “The mistake guys made, was to run to the high side of the ship. And you know from the navy, you run to the low side, the high side is where the waves are going to be coming on. So all the boats swept over. So I climbed down this rope ladder and there was a kid yelling ‘Jump Father’ and my hat blew off, I’ll never forget that. I’m reaching to grab my hat and wait for the next sea to come up and someone yells out ‘For Christ’s sake, somebody jump!’ And I hear this kid with a Boston accent yelling ‘Jump Father!’

Father Whelan veers of the story some in another of his famous digressions; “I married him to a nice girl. He’s a traffic cop in Boston, Joe Reilly. I was giving a talk one time to a Holy Name at Saint Aiden’s in Brooklyn and I made a gesture and who was setting there but Joe Reilly! I hadn’t seen him since that night in the North Atlantic when he yelled ‘Jump Father!’ So he came in afterwards and that following Easter I married him. He’s in Joy Street Station, Boston.”

The story picks up again where Joe Reilly is yelling, “Jump father!” Father Whelan continued with “so I jumped and got half in and half out and got cut. No one told us how to release the boats.” The men had to use Jackknives to cut the ropes loose as no one knew the proper way to lower the boats and also the fact that the ropes were so iced up they couldn’t move anyway.  He continues in the telling of the story, “Then the Captain [Horace Weaver, the Mallory’s Master] got in his launch and just as they were about ready to clip away the Mallory heaved, one of these divots like a huge monster tipped him over. And the ship’s doctor, [Dr. Joseph Grabenstein] he came from Flushing and was a Jew, he used to walk in his bathrobe with Father Jim Liston, the pair of them. They were both afraid of the sea. He went down in the Captain’s boat, and the whole sea filled with bobbing heads and bodies, 860 men!”

Skipping back to a story of the four men who said the rosary every night at 9 O’clock, Father Whelan remarks. “So anyways “Jack” Stokes... The War Department up until recently, I’d get letters from the War Department with pictures from mothers asking do you remember this man etc. I wrote to John Stokes mother “You can start praying to that son of yours, I can attest before God that he never lost his Baptismal Innocence!”

Again back to the sinking story Whelan starts again. “...and the trails of garbage that followed in our wake the subs could track us. We were losing about one ship a night. We had bearings on 35 submarines, a wolfpack! We lost the first ship right after Sandy Hook, New Jersey. In the middle of the day you’d see one of our ships blowing up. In fact the morning of the day before we were hit at 4 AM, and on Saturday, the day before our blow up it was a cold day, everybody was going after these German JU-88’s and Heinkel-111’s that came in from Norway. The guys would tell us on the ship, ‘Just a little target practice.’ The hell they were! They were radioing back our positions to the sub pack.”

“And you see the night we were hit the temperature was 28 degrees. The seas were running 20 to 40 feet high. It was a storm that lasted for four days and four nights, the same storm that snapped the gun turrets from the fantail of the battleship New York that was on the Murmansk run. Snapped the gun turrets, it was dam cold! It was sleet and snow.”

Now Father Whelan begins to turn the focus of his story to the sinking of the USAT Dorchester. This was another troopship in the same convoy as the Mallory and was sunk 4-days before the Mallory disaster. On the Dorchester were 4 Chaplains, all of whom were killed in the sinking. This was a story that the American public held on to during the war and later a United States Postage stamp was commissioned to honor them. The fact was that these four chaplains on the Dorchester and the seven chaplains on the Mallory knew each other. Father Whelan tells this part of the story in the best way he can. He tells it like he saw it and did not hold feelings back on this part of the story. Looking back on this now one can see his view point.

He continues, “See the Dorchester was hit at 11:00 PM on the night of the 3^rd, a beautiful moon lit night and the temperature was 20 degrees and the sea calm. That’s why they thought their ship was going to stay afloat. The first mate, who I have met, on that ship, [Dorchester] had asked Father Washington to get off.”

In a slight digression Whelan continues, “Dr. Bob Kerr, who lives in Homer, New York, and has since became a Catholic, was mayor of the town, married a widow who was the wife of a Lieutenant who got killed in the war, he loved Father John Washington. He was playing bridge with Father John Washington and Jewish Chaplain Alexander Goode and Chaplain Clark Poling. The four of them were playing bridge in this big room where the officers were when they were hit. And this is the only grain of truth in the postage stamp legend, where Father Washington was supposed to have dropped to his knees and the others followed suit. Then they all got dressed and went topside. Everybody was walking up and down smoking cigarettes. The First Mate of the Dorchester came to Father Washington and said, ‘Father you better get the hell off this... If these bulkheads let go, we’ll go right down!’

At the time the Dorchester had her auxiliary lighting on and her batteries were nearly gone. Whelan picks up the story again. “And then Dr. Bob Kerr came to Father Washington, and whatever possessed Father Washington, whether he thought the Dorchester would stay afloat or what, he said ‘No, I’ll wait’ So then Bob Kerr chopped down a life boat, he had to chop it because it was iced. He saved 50 men and got his legs frozen, and they just about got clear of the Dorchester when the bulkheads burst and she went plunk into the deep!”

Whelan repeated this part again likely as a sign of his strong feelings on the subject. “Bob Kerr chopped down a lifeboat, he had to chop it because it was thick with ice and he saved 50 men and got his legs frozen. They just about got clear of the Dorchester when the bulkheads burst and whifft... the ship vanished into the deep. So it’s pure bullshit this story about singing ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ and the chaplains holding hands etc. Kerr said there was one kid (a Sailor) in his boat who said, ‘Gee a Catholic priest went down and he’s the one that gave me my life jacket.’ That’s the original story. Arnold [Chief of Chaplains] and everybody on the [Dorchester] made a lot of bullshit about it!”

Bob Kerr, in talking about the “Postage stamp ecumenism” said; “if those 4 men had lived I would have demanded a court-martial! If one good man loses his life because he is a disobedient sailor it ruins the whole discipline of the ship. You were told when you got on the ship, don’t you shave, don’t you shit, don’t you do anything without your lifejacket.” Father Whelan states that the chaplains on the Dorchester knew this and so did Chief of Chaplains Arnold, and Arnold took a very dim view of Father Whelan because of this. This started when someone wrote to Chief of Chaplains Arnold about Whelan being on this Murmansk run but Frank Moriarty set Arnold straight “No. You got this all mixed up. Gerry Whelan wasn’t there at all!”

Now Father Whelan starts to talk about Commander Raney, the captain of the Bibb, the ship that rescued the bulk of the men from the Mallory. The fact is that Father Whelan and Captain Raney would stay in touch for the rest of their lives as each man had great respect for the other. On the morning of the rescue of the Mallory, Captain Raney on the bridge of the Bibb was said to have commented to his Junior Officer of the Deck, “Mr. Melia, it is good to be a member of the cloth. We saved both a Catholic and a Protestant chaplain.” Melia’s reply was “Captain, before the Mallory was torpedoed, there were 13 chaplains on board. The fact was that Melia did not know the exact number of Chaplains aboard, likely he had unreliable second hand facts, but it was fact that the number of Chaplains on the Mallory was seven.

Speaking back on the subject of Captain Raney, who retired as an Admiral in the Coast Guard, Whelan continued with another famous digression. “You know what they said, the retired admiral up in Saratoga, incidentally, that’s an interesting story, he comes from Arkansas.” “...at sea he broke radio silence and disobeyed orders. He said he “was dammed if he’d see a flock of his countrymen drown.” And so Captain Raney gave orders for the Bibb to go have a “Look-see” and if it was not for this act the survivors of the Mallory may not have survived the morning.

Raney broke radio silence and ordered the Ingham to screen him and asked permission from the British Commodore of the convoy, which was the largest in history up to that time, 78-ships, and his request was refused. So he said “the hell with this.” He could see the flashes in the night of exploding ships, and went over to have that “look-see.” Chaplain Whelan picks up the story, “He came over and picked us up. He’s taken Instructions for Faith three times, but never became a Catholic. He went 20 miles off course to look for survivors. Everyone in his family has either married a Catholic or became Catholics. His mother must have been a wonderful woman, a family of 8 kids.” Again Father Whelan veers off on a related Mallory event of years later. “One of his [Captain Raney] brothers dropped in at St. Alphonsus on the first Friday when I was home. I was hearing confessions and had my name up, he came in and said ‘You must be Father Whelan, my brother’s Prize Catch in the North Atlantic!’ Father Whelan replies, “you’re not a Raney are you?” “Yes. I’m a Court Officer. My brother always brags that you are his Prize Catch!”

In further describing the relationship between Father Whelan and Captain Raney, Whelan continued, “This is the first Christmas I didn’t get a card from him. Usually he writes on the anniversary, because it worries him.” In Raney’s words, “I acted as God that night, there were 10 men on this raft, and I’d take them, and pass up others.” Whelan adds, “And if it had been anybody but the Coast Guard, we’d never have made it! Because the engineer told me later that they had made something like sixty changes of engine, jockeying for the right angle, within a period of a couple of minutes!”

“And we were picked up,” Whelan continued, “we were attacked again by submarines, at 2:00 PM. We were attacked again that night at 2:00 AM. On the Bibb, there were 478 of us! And the capacity is 220. See they picked up another 60 that night. The Ingham picked up the second guys but Raney picked up everyone that he could. Then he asked permission to go into Londonderry and was again refused. See he had to take a segment of the convoy into Iceland! That’s how I happened to land in Iceland.”

Father Whelan would serve on Iceland through December of 1944. He would serve with both the 208^th General Hospital and the 327^th Station Hospital at Meeks Field Iceland. For Father Whelan duty was constant and he never took the “30-day survivor leave” that you see in the movies. He would continue to minister to those from the Mallory sinking. Father Whelan continues the story, “Yeah I took care of a kid from Staten Island right after we’d been rescued. We landed on the 14 of February, a month at sea. This kid had been blown up, and had a rubber suit on and kept himself warm under the dead bodies of his buddies on this open raft. He kept alive on malted milk tablets. He was bobbing there on the open sea when this skipper on a British Corvette said, ‘Lets make one more 90 degree turn’, and as he swung round this raft he saw the kid. This kid from Staten Island, his legs were frozen and had to have them amputated above the knees, all his fingers were frozen too. He had a German name. I used to visit him each day, no bitterness in him at all. He accepted his cross with kindness. And when he went back home...”

At this point according to Father James J. Galvin the man with the cassette tape recorder who had the foresight to record this conversation among friends in 1974 in Jacksonville, Florida, the battery of the recorder had begun running down. This made the tape when played on house current the words were speeded up to a rate that makes them indelibility nil. And so the rest of the story is as they say history. But Father Whelan’s story did not end with the dead batteries.

In January of 1945 he returned to the states going to Kelly Field in San Antonio, Texas. From then until his separation from the Army on June 5, 1946 he would serve at Berry Field in Nashville, TN, Charleston Army Air Base and Stewart Field. On his separation he was advanced in rank to Major.

Major, Father Gerald Whelan, US Army Chaplain Corps was awarded the European Theater of Operations, American Theater Medal, WWII Victory Medal, One Battle Star for Anti-submarine Warfare and Three Overseas Stripes.

After the war Father Whelan would continue in the Catholic Church as a Priest of the Redemptorist Order. Commander Roy Raney, the skipper of the Bibb who had rescued Father Whelan in the North Atlantic had always kept in touch with Whelan over the years. It is likely that Father Whelan and Raney, who was now an Admiral in the Coast Guard, spoke at length about the events of that morning when in Raney’s own words “I acted as God that night, there were 10 men on this raft, and I’d take them, and pass up others.” Raney may have had deep feelings about the horrible things he had seen at sea during the war and Father Whelan would have been one of the few men in which Raney could confide and understand. Whelan had said about Admiral Raney that each year on the anniversary of the sinking Raney would write him and once such letter from 7 February 1968 on the 25^th anniversary is transcribed here.

According to Chuck Casey who had known Father Whelan for several years while at Lookout Mountain, as Chuck’s own father was returning from France during WWI on the dock as his ship arrived there was a band there playing to greet the returning soldiers. In this band was a young man who was none other than Gerald Whelan. But later in life Chuck recalls about Father Whelan that he was a very warm person and a great competitor. Father Whelan loved the game of golf but he was not all that great at it. It was said that Father Whelan often said he never played golf on Saturday, Sunday or Monday but any other day he could be found on the golf course. Father Whelan had a great sense of humor and loved to shoot pool at the Casey’s home. Father Whelan had a little dog to keep him company and this dog was later hit by a car and killed. Father Whelan was very upset about this so his parishioners got him another dog to keep him company. This dog was with him until the day he passed away on March 24, 1985 in Lookout Mountain, Georgia.

There is one final note to Father Whelan’s story. Found among the papers in his personal file at the Redemptorist Provincial Archives, Baltimore Province Our Lady of Good Counsel, located in Brooklyn, New York is an undated and unidentified newspaper clipping of an Editorial entitled “Were There Four Chaplains Or Nine?”

It can’t be said that Father Whelan was the author of this editorial, but it could have been possible he wrote it. It can be surmised that this was written some time in early February 1960 due to this wording, “This information is epically worthy of note on February 7, which is the 17th anniversary of the death of these five stalwart Chaplains.” It is possible that someone who had known Father Washington and also worked for The Catholic Standard and Times newspaper wrote this editorial. It can be said from Father Whelan’s stated feelings on the subject that he whole-heartily agreed with this editorial. Here is the transcribed editorial as it was written:

Father Gerald Whelan, USA, Chaplain Corps	Father Whelan performing Mass while at Shaw Field, South Carolina.

Chaplain Gerald Whelan exiting the chapel in Iceland with Senator “Happy” Chandler of Kentucky. Senator Lodge of Massachusetts is walking ahead of Chaplain Whelan. Upon his return to the States, Senator Lodge sent a personal letter to Chaplain Whelan’s mother, commending him on his fine work in Iceland.

Father Whelan assists during a soldier’s funeral at one of the cemeteries located in Iceland.

Chaplain Ira A. Bentley, Captain, US Army Chaplain Corps

Chaplain Ira A. Bentley, Captain US Army Chaplain Corps

"As Chaplain Whelan read the services and Chaplain Bentley assisted him the bodies were committed to the depths" Ira Alvin Bentley was born on 9 January 1908 in Forth Worth, Texas. Ira was the second eldest child of Wesley M. and Annie E. Bentley both of who were born about 1881. Sometime in 1902 Wesley and Annie married and their first child, a daughter named Letha B. was born about 1905. Then on 9 January 1908 came Ira Alvin Bentley. The 1910 Federal Census tells us that Wesley and Annie had been married for 6 years and just had the two children, Letha and Ira. In the home was also living Wesley’s mother, Sarah J. who was a 66-year old widow. Sarah was born in North Carolina but when she gave birth to Wesley she was living in Alabama. Wesley worked as a laborer for the railroad to support the family in April of 1910. At that time the family was living in Sherman County, Texas in a little town named Stratford. By 1920 the Wesley Bentley family had moved to a farm located in Montague County, Texas between the towns of Forestburg and Newharp. The farm was located somewhere on the Forestburg-Newharp road, which is likely on the present day Texas road 1655. Wesley and Annie had by January 1920 added to the family with a daughter Janie born about 1921 and a third daughter named Laura born about 1923. Wesley was farming the ground and young Ira who was 11 at the time was listed as a farm laborer on the 1920 Federal Census. On the farm next to the Wesley Bentley farm was his brother’s farm. James C. Bentley who was 40-years old, the same age as his brother Wesley. Sarah Bentley, the mother of James and Wesley, who was now 75-years old, lived on the James Bentley farm. Both Brothers were farming and James wife’s name was Mae. Together James and Mae had 9 children.

In April of 1930 the Wesley Bentley family had moved to another farm in Wise County, Texas were Wesley was still farming. By then the family consisted of Wesley and Annie and children Janie, Laura and Ira. It is unclear if Ira, who was now 21-years old, was living full time with the family. On April 9, 1930 when Mrs. Rudd took the Census information at the Wesley Bentley home she recorded that Ira was living there. But two days later on April 11, 1930 the census worker Mrs. Eichelberger records in Waco, Texas on 10th Street at the home of John Holcomb located at 1801 Tenth Street, a single 21-year old man named Ira A. Bentley living there as a “Lodger.” Mr. Holcomb was a High School Principal, and possibly in Waco 21-year old Ira A. Bentley was attending college and stayed with the Holcomb family while at school. This would make sense, as Waco was about 100 miles to the south of the Bentley farm in Wise County.

Ira A. Bentley was attending Baylor University, which was located on Fifth Street in Waco. Ira was lodging at the Holcomb’s house on Tenth Street very near the Baylor Campus. Baylor is a privately run college of the Baptist Church. After graduation from Baylor he took courses at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. It is known that he did know the Hebrew and Greek languages. Little is known of his first assignment but it is known that the church he was pastor of before entering the army was the First Baptist Church of Elk City, Oklahoma.

As America was brought into the Second World War Ira felt his calling was to help his fellow man as a Chaplain in the Army. And so in May of 1942 Ira A. Bentley entered the Army at Camp Walters, Texas. On April 22, 1942 he was appointed a Chaplain in the Army Corps of Chaplains at the rank of Captain. In late 1942 Chaplain Bentley was transferred to Camp Myles Standish near Boston. There he would meet at least 2 other chaplains who would eventually sail with him aboard the Mallory. They were Chaplains Liston and Whelan.

Eventually Captain Bentley would be sent overseas where he would be needed to minister and care for men who would need him in their hour of need. Chaplain Bentley could not know at that time that his services would be required before they even got to the battlefields in Europe. Chaplain Bentley’s first taste of battle would be in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean.

Assigned to the 824th Aviation Engineers based in Iceland, Chaplain Bentley along with six other Army Chaplains were assigned to sail on the USS Henry R. Mallory, bound for Iceland. The convoy sailed from New York on January 24 and the Mallory sailed with a new captain at her helm. Captain Horace Weaver was newly commissioned as her master but he was a veteran of several trips aboard the Mallory as a junior officer. This would be his first and last trip as Master. Along with a new Captain about half the Mallory’s crew was new, a fact that likely was not something that the troops aboard knew about.

The Mallory sailed on ever eastward in the cold rough weather. On February 3, the same day that four Army Chaplains were killed when the USS Dorchester was torpedoed and sank, the Mallory lost her convoy during the night. The troops on board noticed that the Mallory’s engines were cranking out a new desperate speed. The troops on board began to make there way topside to see the horrifying sight of no ships of the convoy in site anywhere on the horizon. Soon enough the Mallory made her way back into the relative safety of the convoy. It was likely that as she sailed alone the seven chaplains were busy calming the boys from the fears that lay ahead of them. For the next several nights the men aboard the Mallory could feel the German torpedoes hitting nearby ships in the convoy and the returning depth charges dropped by the escorting ships. Boat drills were held day and night on the Mallory, but there was no instruction on how to lower the boats, a simple fact that likely contributed to many deaths in the events of the morning of the Mallory’s demise.

On the afternoon Saturday February 6, the Chaplains organized a boxing match on the quarterdeck to take the ever-present feeling of doom off the crew and troops aboard. Chaplain Macdonald took an active part of the boxing matches. Later that night as the men fell back to thoughts of the unknown laid before them, the chaplains held a prayer service in the mess hall. Little did the men know that within 9 hours many of the men on board would lay dying and half frozen on the deadly cold water. But the Chaplains may have felt that the men needed some Devine inspiration on that last evening.

On Sunday February 7, 1943 at 0358 hrs Chaplain Ira Bentley and the six other chaplains received the first test of Battle. This would be a test in which only two of the seven chaplains would pass with their lives, Chaplain Whelan and Chaplain Bentley. Once the Mallory had slipped from the surface of the angry waters Chaplain Bentley found himself lucky to be among the living, for now. Men were drowning and freezing all around him. He would endure the icy waters for another eight hours, until rescued by the USCGC Bibb.

Captain Raney of the US Coast Guard Cutter Bibb was not going to leave the area until he rescued every living man in the water that morning, even disregarding a direct order from the convoy commander. Among the men from the Mallory that Captain Raney’s crew hauled aboard were the two surviving Chaplains from the Mallory. During the day of the rescue three of the men from the Mallory died later in the day. That evening Captain Raney stopped the Bibb when the darkness was sufficient to cover them. Chaplain Father Whelan and Chaplain Ira Bentley then prepared to conduct burial services for the three dead shipmates. As Chaplain Whelan read the services and Chaplain Bentley assisted him the bodies were committed to the depths. As soon as the bodies were slipped over the side the Bibb got underway again. It was reported that up on the bridge of the Bibb Captain Raney said to the Junior Officer of the Deck, “Mr. Melia, it is good to be a member of the cloth. We saved both a Catholic and a Protestant chaplain.” Melia’s reply was “Captain, before that ship [the Mallory] was torpedoed, there were 13 chaplains on board[1].” Raney and Melia had no way to know the two chaplains they had saved were the only two saved from the Mallory.

After the rescue the men from the Mallory were taken to Iceland. Chaplain Bentley remained there until November of 1943 when he was assigned to duty with the 8th Air Force Redistribution Station in England. There in England he had the opportunity to preach in many different English churches and missions. One such church mission, the Railway Mission in Preston, England appreciated Chaplain Bentley so much that they presented him with a silver cup, in which Bentley was ever proud of.

Captain Ira Bentley returned to the States in May of 1945 and was stationed in Tampa, Florida in June 1945 before being sent to Ardmore Air Force base in Carter County, Oklahoma. On September 14, 1945 Captain Bentley was relieved from Active Duty with the Army. His next assignment as a civilian was as the pastor of the Connell Baptist Church in Fort Worth, Texas, which was begun about October of 1945.

Before the war on December 25, 1932 at the age of 24, Ira Bentley married Alma Pearl Wilkerson. Now after surviving the sinking of the Mallory and the end of the war, Ira and his wife Alma began to pick up where they had left off when Ira went to war. Two years after Ira and Alma were married their first child was born, a son named Billy Mack Bentley, and was followed on November 1, 1936 by a daughter named Ira Nell Bentley.

In June of 1947 Pastor Bentley and his wife attended the Baptist World Alliance meetings held in Copenhagen, Denmark. At the same time he was also to make stops in Preston, Accrington and Dorchester, England to conduct revival meetings. During the war he had preached several times with great popularity in the Interdenominational Mission at Preston, England. The Bentley’s would be flying across the Atlantic and Alma had been excited about her first time flying, but Ira had remarked as a former 8th Air Force veteran “The excitement of flying wore off long ago for me.” On the trip over the Bentley’s were allowed 132 pounds of baggage and used as much of this to carry chocolate candy, plaid shirts for children and nylon hose for women to the three congregations Pastor Bentley would be speaking at in England.

The events of the sinking and survival of the USS Henry R. Mallory were forever fused to every survivor’s daily thoughts for the rest of their lives. Some in different way but each man who survived were forever connected with the event and likely never was able to forget the events of 0358 hrs on February 7, 1943. Many would never speak of the events again and some would reflect the events in public. Ira Bentley 17-years after the sinking in February of 1960 would recount the events to parishioners at his church where he was pastor. This was the Connell Baptist Church and as the now 52-year old graying pastor spoke to those gathered he spoke calmly and had no bitterness towards the Germans who had attacked them 17-years previous. Bentley was even able to recall with fondness, which brought smiles to his face when recalling some of the events of the sailing and sinking. But there was obvious sadness when he spoke of Savignac, Liston, Gravely, Mcdonald and Youngdahl the five other chaplains which he sailed with who were killed that day.

He spoke of how there was no memorial erected to those five chaplains except the one in the memories of those who knew and loved them. And that just as certainly as the front-line fighting man, they gave their lives in service of God and Country. Pastor Bentley continued telling how on that day of the attack he was sleeping restlessly in an upper bunk. Below him would be the only other chaplain to survive the sinking, that of Chaplain Whelan. “Suddenly there was a terrific jolt and I was knocked out of my bunk onto the floor,” Bentley stated. “The ship was shaking and shivering and I grabbed the bunk structure and called to Father Whelan.”

“Father Whelan went to his station and I went to mine. I remember donning an overcoat and dashing up to the deck. Then, and it’s silly to recall, I went back for gloves.” Bentley continues with “Despite military preparation everything was confusion and everything was pitch-black because the power system aboard ship had been knocked out.” Bentley had a life belt but he knew, as did every other man that this was going to be of little comfort if you were in the icy cold waters of the Atlantic that morning. Chaplain Bentley calmly waited at his assigned station until he could climb down the side of the quickly sinking Mallory on a rope ladder to a 30-foot lifeboat. At the time Chaplain Bentley was not sure if he was going to make it down the ladder but near the bottom he found the strong arms of a veteran sailor reaching up and grabbing him. Now in the lifeboat, which was now riding very low in the heavy seas he was among some 60 other men. The lifeboat was low in the water because there were 30 more men in the boat that the lifeboat was safe to carry.

Bentley continued with “I remember that as we were about to pull away someone shouted ‘there comes another man,’ and the man came down the rope ladder. But at that moment a terrific wave swept the lifeboat up against the sinking ship, and the rope ladder and that final man disappeared.” Now in the relative safety of the lifeboat Chaplain Bentley began to think. “For a time I was too paralyzed with fear to think of anything. Then I noticed that some of the tough sailors who had cursed and gambled and raised the dickens weren’t talking either.”

“Then I thought of my family, my wife and two children back in Fort Worth, and how little use I could be to them out here in this predicament.” Chaplain Bentley told how he began to think that he had left behind on the Mallory the little money that he brought with him, but he soon realized that the money would be of no value or use now. He began to think of the education he had from Baylor and the two-years at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and the thought that all this education was of no use to him now.

Then another thought came to him that the only thing he really had left was his faith in God. From that moment on he felt a calmness come over him that allowed him to leave the over loaded lifeboat with 60 men in it to another one that only had 15 men in it. About noon, which was about eight hours after leaving the Mallory and getting into the first lifeboat, the Coast Guard Cutter Bibb found and picked up the lifeboat Bentley and the others were in.

As the Mallory slipped under the surface of the Atlantic she carried to the bottom with her Chaplain Bentley’s Bible. Days later Bentley was safe on land in Iceland and there the only replacement Bible he could find was a Gideon Bible given to him from a Lutheran chaplain, which he would use for the rest of the time he was in the Army. This Gideon Bible Bentley used in many services there on Iceland and in England with the 8th Air Force and was brought back to the States with him and was his most treasured sacred possession. Bentley always remarked until his last day that as certain as he was when 40-foot waves slapped at an overloaded lifeboat in the North Atlantic years before that the one thing a man can hang onto is his faith in God.

Ira Alvin Bentley would serve as a pastor in the Connell Baptist church for the rest of his life until his death at the young age of 69-years. On July 20, 1977 Pastor Ira A. Bentley would pass away in Fort Worth Texas.

Pvt. Strauss has a Fateful Encounter with a Baker named "Cookie"

" I practiced walking up to the boat deck, in the dark, in case anything happened, so I could easily find my boat position"

Louis Strauss, service No. 32359571 a Veteran of World War II, and holder of the Purple Heart Decoration relates his experiences during that conflict:

"Drafted in 1942 at the age of twenty, I was sent to Fort Dix, New Jersey for basic training. Upon completion of that training I was assigned to the 455th Anti-Aircraft Battalion, as a radio operator and machine-gunner. The unit was sent to Boston harbor, where we boarded a troop transport, the USS Henry R. Mallory, and set sail for England. I was quartered in the hold of the ship, with the units barracks bags.

En route, I met a Lieutenant (his name may have been Myanni from Boston), and got into a conversation with him. It turned out that his mother used to come into our store, Red Star Wallpaper and Paint Company, in Wilmington, Delaware. (According to Brian the mother lived in Kennet Square) We chatted for a while and he asked me if I wanted a job in the galley. I agreed and was happy to move up from the hold of the ship. As it turned out while working in the galley, I became friendly with the Baker. He worked all night, baking, so he insisted that I use his bunk at night instead of the hold of the ship. What a fateful decision that turned out to be.

During the voyage, with the first stop being Iceland, exact destinations were kept secret. We had lifeboat exercises, where I was assigned to lifeboat No. 5. Since I was now in a cabin, I practiced walking up to the boat deck, in the dark, in case anything happened, so I could easily find my boat position.

After many days at sea, we were about 500 miles from Iceland, when we were hit by two torpedoes. Panic broke out, together with the smell of burning oil and smoke. Everyone was screaming in panic and the conditions were chaotic. I ran as fast as I could to the boat deck looking for Lifeboat No. 5. I felt so lucky that I had practiced, unwittingly, for this moment that we all prayed would never come. But it did on February 7th, 1943.

I looked for my lifeboat, but it was already in the water. I moved to another area, but there were no other lifeboats. I climbed over the railing to a rope ladder and climbed down to get off the ship that was now listing badly and sinking. It was a nightmare.

Fire, seeping oil, machine-gunning sounds, sirens, screaming and smoke, was what I was experiencing. The water was freezing and snow was now falling. I was knocked off my perch by a tremendous wave and thrown into the frigid water. It seemed that I was under water for a long time. Oil and debris faced me as I popped up from the cold sea, pulling on a rope that hung down from the vessel. I found my way to a nearby lifeboat, where I was about to be pulled in by a friend I recognized. (possibly his name was Staff Sgt. Rossam) But before he could help me aboard, I was hit from behind by another lifeboat and injured badly. I hung on and was finally taken aboard.

Dead bodies were floating by, and some were in the lifeboat. Survivors were praying. I suddenly remembered hearing somewhere that most people can last only about 7 minutes in such cold water, and survive. The last thing I remember was bright colors coming, and then I became unconscious. I didn't know until later that what I had seen was a camouflaged British ship that came to rescue us. I think that the name of the British ship was Campanula. (The HMS Campanula was in fact a British Corvette serving as a Convoy Escort ship in Convoy SC-118 that the Mallory was sailing in when she was attacked on February 7, 1943)

Later I heard someone say: "a cup of tea Yank?" I realized then that I was alive. While recuperating on the British ship, the British Navy was dropping depth charges, trying to sink the German sub that sank our ship. Every time a depth charge exploded, our ship would lift in the water. I hurt every time this happened. I think that we had very few survivors.

An American Officer stopped by to visit me in sick bay and told me not to discuss anything that had happened to our ship, or to the convoy.

I ended up in the Royal Naval Hospital, Liverpool, England, where I was treated for hematoma, (from the oil in the water), contusions and hypothermia. I was in the hospital for 7 months. After rehabilitation and reassignment I became a Corporal and then was prompted to Supply Sergeant and had a car and driver."

Louis, in December, 2002 under went a successful aorta valve replacement and Brian his son wrote some details of this story on his Palm Pilot while Louis mumble them while still under anesthesia.

Louis Strauss story was printed in Mail Call for veterans and given to me from his son Brian Strauss. Brian now carries on the family business of Custom Blinds, drapery and carpet. The 3rd generation business started in 1911 is now called Red Star Design Group, specializing in the sales, installations & repair of blinds, drapery, carpet, wallcovering and floorcovering... Since 1911 redstardecorating@comcast.net

As a footnote: As his father was still under anesthesia, Brian wrote these notes down and we are putting the pieces together as best as can be figured out. These were the notes: "Life boat # 5,... Guy named Myanni, Boston, ... England Royal Naval Hospital, ...transfer to 30 general hospital, ...rehab reassign, ... POl petroleum staff sergeant Rossam, became corporal then became supply sergeant had car with driver, outfit ship mallet prison."

Pvt. John P. McNally, U.S. Army, Coast Artillery Corps

"...He thought that the energy they expended during their frantic efforts may have kept them from freezing..."

The above two V-Mail letters were written by Elizabeth Smith to John P. McNally asking about the fate of her son, William Smith who was killed February 7, 1943 when the Mallory went down. Below are transcripts of each letter.

Pvt. William A. Smith, U. S. Army, Coast Artillery Corps.

On April 6, 1943 the War Department made public the names of 185 Army soliders who were officially listed as "Missing in Action" for the European, Middle East, North American, Pacific areas and those who were missing at sea in the North Atlantic. Among the list published was the name of Private William A. Smith. Elizabeth Smith, William's mother wrote to another Private named John P. McNally who had survived, and was in the same unit that her son was in asking about the fate of her son. Below is an United Press news article in which Pvt. Smith is listed as "Missing in Action"

2nd Lt. John T. "Jack" Stokes

Second Lt. John T. Stokes, USA was killed in action aboard the troopship USS Henry R. Mallory during an attack by a German U-Boat on February 7, 1943. His body was never recovered and his name appears on the Tablets of the Missing located in the Cambridge American Cemetery, Cambridge, England.

 All his life his close friends knew John T. Stokes as “Jack” and his story begins with his grandfather William Henry Stokes, who was born in February 1855. William was married to Catherine who was born in September of 1858 and both were Illinois natives. In June of 1900 William and Catherine Stokes lives in Taylorville, Illinois where William worked as a janitor at the Taylorville School. Their children were Beatrice, Mabel, Howard, Clifford and Parnell.

 “Jack” Stokes story continues through his father Howard Stokes, the third child of William and Catherine. Howard was born on April 11 of 1889 and in April of 1910 Howard Stokes was 21 and single and worked as a clerk in a drug store. Howard still lived with his parents and the family home was located at 321 W. Vine St. in Taylorville, Illinois. Howard was a medium built slender man with dark brown eyes and hair. By June of 1917 Howard was married and had a son when he registered for the Federal Draft during WWI. On the draft card he signed his name as “William Howard Stokes” but it seems as if he was commonly known as Howard throughout his life. His wife’s name was Ida L. and she was born about 1888 in Illinois. Howard was now a pharmacist at a Taylorville drug store. Howard and Ida’s home was located at 524 W. Main in Taylorville, IL.

 In the early spring of 1917 Howard and Ida had a baby boy named John T. Stokes and he was born in Indiana. By April of 1930 the Howard Stokes family still lived in the same house at 524 Main Street, which Howard and Ida owned and was valued at $7,000. But now the family consisted of John T. and his sister Lillian born about 1920.

 His father’s profession as a Pharmacist likely influenced John T. “Jack” Stokes and when “Jack” entered into the US Army during WWII he was in the Medical Administration Corps of the Army. Jack was a Second Lieutenant and in late January 1943 he found himself sailing toward Iceland on the troopship USS Henry R. Mallory.

 Second Lt. “Jack” Stokes was from a good Catholic family and aboard the ship he met and said the rosary every night with three other Catholic men. The other three men were Catholic Chaplain’s Liston, Savignac and Whelan. Each night at 9 O’clock the four men would meet and say the rosary together. Chaplain Whelan describes 2nd Lt. “Jack” Stokes, “He was a real saint. I’d heard his confession. He never lost his baptismal innocence! And if you met the guy, you’d think he was a rough tough son of a seacook. The last I saw of him I said “Hi Jack” and he said ‘Hi Father, what shall we do?’ Father Whelan’s reply was “Let’s get the hell off this!” At the time the Mallory was listing badly.”

 “Jack” Stokes would not survive the morning and likely froze to death in the icy waters. Of the four men who said the rosary every night at 9 O’clock on the Mallory only Chaplain Whelan survived. Later in life Father Whelan remarked about “Jack” Stokes, “So anyways “Jack” Stokes, the War Department up until recently, I’d get letters from the War Department with pictures from mothers asking do you remember this man etc. I wrote to John Stokes mother “You can start praying to that son of yours, I can attest before God that he never lost his Baptismal Innocence!”

Private First Class Albert Labrozzi, US Army

Private First Class Albert Labrozzi, 325-027-41, U.S. Army was traveling aboard the USS Henry R. Mallory with his unit when she was hit by a German torpedo and sent to the bottom of the Atlantic. Labrozzi was among the few plucked from the sea by the USCGC Ingham on the morning of February 7, 1943.

Albert Labrozzi was born in New York State on June 3, 1922. He had only 1 year of high school and was working in the construction field as a mason before the war. When the United States entered the war Labrozzi went to Fort Jay on Governors Island and entered the Army on September 14, 1942. At the time he was single.

After the war Labrozzi would live the rest of his life in New York, living near Sag Harbor in Suffolk County. Albert’s brother Charles Labrozzi was a builder and mason and together they were known in the local Sag Harbor area as exacting craftsmen whose work was appreciated for its precision by builders and homeowners. Guy Dee Bennett a nephew to Albert and Charles took an apprenticeship specializing in masonry under the tutelage of his uncles Albert and Charles Labrozzi.

Albert Labrozzi and Guy Bennett built the Millstone Tavern across from the old Bridgehampton Racetrack in 1956. It was, as his family said, “a legend in its own time.”

On May 3, 2001 Albert Labrozzi would pass away.

PFC Everett T. Baker, USA

In March of 2008 George E. Smith, Jr., Commander, Chapter 780 Military Order of the Purple Heart was doing some research into Private First Class Everett T. Baker, Service Number 372-17-319, USA.

PFC Baker had been killed in action on February 7, 1943 and it was discovered from copies of his personnel records that he was aboard the USS Henry R. Mallory the morning she was attacked and sank.

PFC Baker was in the Army Ordnance Department and entered the Army from Reno County, Kansas. His name appears on the Tablets of the Missing in Action or Buried at Sea at the Cambridge American Cemetery in Cambridge, England.

Cpl. Alfred Cozine, 10040604, USA

Alfred L. Cozine was born on June 15, 1920 to William and Dorinda Cozine of Bayonne, New Jersey. Alfred was the fourth son born to William and Dorinda. Henry (b. abt. 1911), Joseph (b. abt. 1915) Stanley (b. abt. 1917) were Alfred’s older brothers and he had one younger sister two years younger. William, the father, worked as a bricklayer to support his family.

By the time the United States entered into World War Two, Alfred had had two years of high school education and was then working as a clerk. On January 5, 1942 Alfred Cozine enlisted into the United States Army in New York City.

Just a few days over a year from the time he enlisted he found him self with orders in hand that would take him to Iceland. He was to take transportation there aboard the USS Henry R. Mallory. As the Mallory lay anchored in the North River in New York for a week loaded with her troops, Cpl. Cozine likely thought of what would lay before him in the forth-coming crossing to Iceland.

It was on the morning of February 7, 1943 Cpl. Cozine woke to the sound of an explosion deep within the hull of the Mallory. She had been fatally wounded and would soon sink from the surface of the sea. Cpl. Cozine made his way off the Mallory and likely thought he would die in the freezing waters of the Atlantic. But the Coast Guard Cutter Ingham rescued him along with a group of 21 other lucky shipmates.

Cozine would survive the sinking of the Mallory, and the rest of the war. He would return to his family in New Jersey and later retire to the warmth of Florida where he would pass away at the age of 63-years in Ft. Myers, FL on November 4, 1983.

Cpl. Robert W. Rothbauer, 17051631, USA

Robert W. Rothbauer was born on August 11, 1922 in Hennepin County, Minnesota. During WWII Robert enlisted into the United States Army on May 7, 1942 at Ft. Snelling, Minnesota. At the time he had only finished Grammar School and was single when he went into the Army.

In Late January 1943 Rothbauer who had now advanced to grade of Corporal was aboard the USS Henry R. Mallory bound for Iceland. During the morning of February 7, 1943 Cpl. Rothbauer safely got off the sinking Mallory and was rescued with 21 other shipmates by the Coast Guard Cutter Ingham.

Cpl. Rothbauer would survive the sinking and the rest of the war and returned to his home in Minnesota where he married Cecelia Agnes Yost. Together he and Cecelia had 2 sons and one daughter. Robert William Rothbauer, Jr. born Nov. 3, 1950, Janice Elvera Rothbauer born April 1, 1954, and Charles Albert Rothbauer born Sept. 29, 1966.

Robert W. Rothbauer, Sr. would pass away on June 3, 1993 in Hennepin County, Minnesota.