Veterans: Faith was bedrock of our lives during conflicts
Gulf War veteran Marine Staff Sgt. William Medford sits in a tent during the conflict. It was just before the war began that Medford became Catholic. (Submitted photo)
(Editor’s note: The Criterion invited readers who served in the military to share their stories of how their faith helped them during wartime. Here are the stories of four veterans.)
By Natalie Hoefer
During World War I, before the United States Air Force existed, Sgt. Thomas Marcotte served as an aircraft mechanic for the Air Service of the Signal Corps of the United States Army.
He is not alive to tell his story, but his son loves to share the wartime stories of his father, “an interesting man, a very religious man.”
While Don Marcotte, a member of St. Christopher Parish in Indianapolis, says there are many tales to share about the “storybook exploits” of his father, one experience of faith particularly stands out.
The story takes place in France where, “passing through a French town, [my father] learned about a local ‘holy French nun.’ ”
Being a Catholic man of faith, Sgt. Marcotte purchased from the sisters a prayer book that contained a piece of the nun’s habit on the front cover.
Don says his father “prayed to the nun that he would be kept safe in the war. He carried the prayer book in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt.”
One day, Sgt. Marcotte was sent out to repair a downed plane in an area between two trenches of opposing troops. Although there had been no activity between the trenches for a few days, Don relates how his father “heard a shot ring out as he bent over the engine of the plane, and he felt a burning pain in his chest.”
Upon reaching the safety of a bomb shell crater, he noticed a bullet hole in his shirt.
“When he opened his shirt, there was a bullet hole in his undershirt,” Don explains. “The bullet had plowed a bloody furrow across the skin of one breast and burned a strip from the heat of the bullet to the other breast.
“As the bullet left, it took the corner off the prayer book in his shirt pocket. He credits this nun with saving his life.”
Don shares that his father believed the nun also saved his life several other times, “including a plane crash he was in.”
In 1925, less than a decade after the U.S. entered World War I, the nun whose prayer book Sgt. Marcotte owned was declared a saint—St. Thérèse of Lisieux, known as “the Little Flower.”
After his father died in 1942 of lung cancer believed to be caused by exposure to poisonous gases during the war, the Marcottes donated the prayer book to the national shrine of St. Thérèse, which was then located on the south side of Chicago.
Sadly, a fire destroyed both the shrine and the prayer book in 1975.
Throughout his life, his father developed a strong devotion to St. Thérèse, says Don.
“She was his favorite saint. He prayed to her all the time.”
That devotion spread to the rest of the Marcotte family, including Don.
“I have a [St. Thérèse] medal around my neck that I’ve been wearing for 40 years,” he shares.
‘A level of inner peace’
When Marine Staff Sgt.William Medford was deployed to Okinawa, Japan, in the summer of 1990, he went with a non-military mission in mind.
“One of my personal goals during this deployment was to prepare for confirmation, to be formally received into the [Catholic] Church,” says Medford, a baptized Christian who had married a Catholic. “I felt it was important for me to profess the Catholic faith through confirmation in order to strengthen our family and my Christian life.”
Medford had started meeting with the Catholic chaplain on his base when his plans were interrupted by the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in August of 1990. He was redeployed to Saudi Arabia as part of operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm.
After the redeployment, Medford continued speaking with the priest assigned to his unit about being received into the full communion of the Church.
His steps to be received into the Church were soon put on the fast track.
“As it became more apparent that we were going to have to drive Iraqi forces out of Kuwait, the serving priest and I agreed that I [should] be confirmed and receive the Eucharist, with the understanding that I attend RCIA [Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults] classes post-deployment,” Medford explains.
Although his memories of first receiving the sacraments of confirmation and holy Communion are vague, Medford states that his “faith during Desert Storm enabled me to not only deal personally with the aggression, emotion and violence of war, but also to support others as they tried to deal with what we were facing.
“I recall through prayer having that moment where I was able to release my worries to God. I was still scared, but I was provided a level of inner peace, enough where I could carry on with the mission and provide moral leadership to others.”
After his deployment, Medford fulfilled his promise to attend RCIA classes while stationed at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina.
His first sacraments may have been hastened by war, but the effects have been lasting.
Now, more than 20 years later, the Gulf War veteran and his wife are members of St. Paul Catholic Center in Bloomington.
And after two decades, says Medford, he still continues to grow in his “Catholic Christian faith through prayer, Mass, ministry and family.”
‘Catholic roots guided me through the war’
Retired Army Specialist Norbert Schott feels his mother’s prayers to Our Lady of Perpetual Help were answered in the assignment he received during the Vietnam War.
“War was around me, but I was not part of war,” Schott says of his non-combatant role as a clerk in Qui Nho’n, a city on the coast of the South China Sea in Vietnam. He served there from June of 1967 to January of 1969.
As the war went on around him, Schott held on to his Catholic faith.
“I had a beautiful Catholic-Franciscan family life as part of Sacred Heart Church in Indianapolis,” he recalls. “Going to Mass and confession were regular tools of growth. I did not abandon them in Vietnam.”
Schott celebrated Christmas of 1968 with a Catholic Filipino family he met through his uncle, a Franciscan priest who served as pastor of the family’s parish in the Philippines.
“I think I attended a dozen or so family Christmas parties,” he says of his “R&R [rest and relaxation]” visit to what he calls the “Catholic island.”
He saw his prayer life deepen in Vietnam as he “prayed for the boys who were in the infantry. I had deep compassion for them.
“Perhaps I was ‘lucky,’ perhaps I was ‘spoiled’ by my assignment,” Schott reflects, but concludes rather that he was “ ‘blessed’ to be able to continue prayer in a war that should not have been.”
For Schott, a member of St. Paul the Apostle Parish in Greencastle, it all comes down to gratitude for his faith, as he gave thanks to God for “my Catholic roots that were deep and guided me through the war.”
‘The inspiration of my life’
Retired Marine Corporal Mike Johnson of Shelbyville was raised a Baptist. Yet he still claims Servant of God Father Vincent Capodanno to be “the inspiration of my life.”
Maryknoll Father Capodanno was a military chaplain for the United States Navy during the Vietnam War. His bravery and dedication to soldiers earned him not only a posthumous Medal of Honor, but more importantly led to an investigation into his cause for sainthood, thus giving him the title, Servant of God.
“I first met Father Vincent Capodanno a short time after arriving in Vietnam during a combat field operation,” Johnson recalls. “It was a Sunday, and he was our field chaplain. I wasn’t Catholic, but a church service seemed welcoming considering our miserable circumstances.
“Several of us attended his service, all of various faiths. That didn’t matter. Father Capodanno’s service somehow provided us with a connection to our normal lives back home, and brought some sanity to an environment of madness.”
Johnson explains that when he was lying injured in a military hospital he “got to know [Father Capodanno] personally [when] he would come and visit the patients.”
The Vietnam veteran remembers one particular incident when he witnessed Father Capodanno’s dedication firsthand.
“We were sweeping a field, walking in a horizontal formation,” he shares. “About 15 yards from me, two Marines had tripped some type of landmine and were seriously injured.
“Out of nowhere, Father Capodanno climbed a fence, ran out in front of everyone, and was the first person to arrive at their side. He gave no thought to his own life—he knew he had to get to them to serve the faith that he so truly believed. It made us feel good to know he was with us.”
Johnson returned to the U.S. in 1967.
“Shortly after I returned home, I learned that [Father Capodanno] was killed during Operation Swift,” he recalls. “As I read the details of his death, I knew he was doing what he had done so often—he was helping and comforting others.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Father Capodanno. He has always been, and still is, an inspiration in my life.” †
