Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, February 2, 1993 TAG: 9302020054
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JOE CLARK KNIGHT-RIDDER/TRIBUNE
DATELINE: PHILADELPHIA LENGTH: Medium
27 MINUTES OF TRAGEDY AND HEROISM IN WW II HAVEN'T BEEN FORGOTTEN
Walt Miller was about to rummy out. He just pulled a king - a red one - to go with his four deuces. "I was set to yell, `Rummy,' but I never got the chance," said Miller. "Everything went black. I didn't know what happened."What happened was his troop ship, the SS Dorchester - once kindly described as an "underprivileged ship" - had just taken a German torpedo smack in its gut, in an area of the North Atlantic known as Torpedo Junction.
In 27 minutes, the converted freighter disappeared beneath the icy waters off the coast of Greenland.
It was 1:22 a.m., Feb. 3, 1943.
Of the 902 men on board, 230 survived. The 672 deaths were World War II's third-greatest single loss of life.
Among those who perished were four men from diverse backgrounds who for the grace of God found themselves kneeling together in prayer on the slanting deck as the Dorchester slipped away.
They were four chaplains - one Catholic, one Jew, two Protestants - who not only consoled those about to die, but gave their life jackets to four young GIs.
The chaplains - John Washington, Alexander Goode, George Fox and Clark Poling - were posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross.
"These four chaplains heroically and calmly moved about the deck, encouraging the men and assisting them to abandon ship," read the accompanying citation. "After the available supply of life jackets was exhausted, they gave up their own."
To mark the 50th anniversary of both the tragedy and the heroism aboard the Dorchester that fateful morning, The Chapel of the Four Chaplains, founded in Philadelphia more than 40 years ago, is sponsoring a three-day commemorative observance next week in the city and at Valley Forge.
The events began Sunday with an ecumenical service at the Cathedral Basilica of Sts. Peter and Paul, and included a reunion breakfast Monday for survivors and the families of those who died.
Pfc. Walter Stanley Miller of Bristol, Conn., was 19 when he joined the Army. It wasn't long after he quit his job in a belt-buckle factory that Miller found himself on a bunk playing rummy with two other guys when the torpedo hit.
"I could feel the ship rise a little out of the water, then settle down. I didn't hear anything," Miller recently recalled in a phone interview.
"I felt my way onto the deck. There was a whole bunch of guys lined up along the railing. They were just standing there looking at the ocean, like we weren't even hit. I think they were frozen in fear.
"I climbed onto the railing, grabbed a rope and slid down, not knowing what was on the other end. Fortunately, it was a lifeboat. Lifeboat No. 13. It was one of only two, out of 14, to make it.
"A couple of guys grabbed the oars and started rowing. Someone said to keep it headed into the waves. We could see the ship. I heard the Lord's Prayer being said by many voices. That's all I could hear."
Many of the men who died in the disaster froze to death in the icy sea. It was thought that no one could survive in the water for more than 30 minutes.
Pfc. James Ward, who was 18, survived for nine hours and 20 minutes.
When he jumped through the darkness and into the deadly North Atlantic, it was the first time he had been in water since he was kid growing up in Bromley, Ky., when he swam in the Ohio River.
Ward, a 69-year-old retired construction worker, now lives across the river in Cincinnati. Back in 1976, his kneecaps had deteriorated so badly he had to have them replaced with plastic ones. "Might have been due to that frozen water," he says.
After abandoning ship, Ward swam to a lifeboat and clung to its side. "One of the guys tapped me on the back and said, `Hey, take a look.' I turned around and saw these fellows standing on the first deck. I took it to be the chaplains. They were singing songs, hymns. I knew they couldn't get off. The next time I looked, it was like slipping away under water."
Ward eventually climbed into the only other lifeboat that remained, lifeboat No. 6.
"There were 36 of us. By the time the Coast Guard picked us up, only four were left. The other 32 froze to death. They died right there in the boat. We watched them die. A big wave would come and wash them out. We were in water up to our belt.
"I was getting tired, sleepy. A sailor boy kept slapping me in the face. `You go to sleep, you're gonna freeze, you gonna die.' That fellow saved my life. I don't even know who he was."
On Feb. 3, 1951, the eighth anniversary of the Dorchester's sinking, President Harry Truman dedicated the Chapel of Four Chaplains in the Baptist Temple of Temple University. It remained there until 1990, when deterioration forced the building to close.
Ground-breaking ceremonies for a new chapel in Valley Forge National Historical Park will be part of the upcoming commemorative observance.
In a letter sent to the family of one of the chaplains a few years before the dedication, Truman called the chaplains' actions a "heroic event without parallel in American annals."
Keywords:
FATALITY