Don Lavender, 33°
2913 49th Street, Des Moines, Iowa 50310–2550

Prayer in time of war strengthens faith and relieves stress.

A saying going back to WW II or before implies that there are no atheists in foxholes. Most combat veterans agree. Even agnostics were sometimes moved to seek help from wherever they could get it, including a Power greater than themselves.

Opportunities for prayer were scant in the midst of war, and formal religious services were few. In my combat experience, I can only recall one or two services conducted by a Chaplain. One of those occurred during the rapid advance the night before Easter Sunday 1945. It was possible because we were between engagements, having pursued the retreating Germans to their next defensive position. We were about to embark on another phase. Our company had been riding on tanks, and in the dusk, a Chaplain conducted a short, well-attended service just prior to our briefing to jump off again.

Although it was not discussed, it is my judgment that most of the men in my rifle company believed in the power of prayer and got satisfaction from praying when they had the opportunity. In static positions, the Infantryman was frequently on guard by himself at night with a sleeping partner nearby. That was one of the opportunities for prayer. Because most of the praying was silent and not organized, seldom were other soldiers aware. It was not a matter that was discussed, and no one inquired of his buddy if he had prayed.

For my part, I got considerable satisfaction out of remembering the words to the old hymn "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind." Some of the words would go through my mind on the march, upon waking, or just about anywhere. Of the five verses, I remembered four and could recite them without difficulty. The first verse goes like this: "Dear Lord and Father of mankind,/ Forgive our fev'rish ways,/ Reclothe us in our rightful mind;/ In purer lives Thy service find,/ In deeper reverence, Praise." These words seemed to fit among the chaos so often present.

Another verse that seemed appropriate was: "Drop Thy still dews of quietness,/ Till all our strivings cease,/ Take from our souls the strain and stress,/ And let our ordered lives confess,/ The beauty of Thy peace." In the din of battle, quietness would be reassuring, and, Lord knows, we were all striving to stay alive. We were in desperate need for relief from stress.

The last verse ended with words that were particularly appropriate for our situation: "Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire,/ Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire,/ O still small voice of calm." Certainly, war is like an earthquake. These words, written by John Greenleaf Whittier in 1872, were a comfort to me at a time when we were entirely dependent on acquired skill and luck.

The ultimate reward in combat was not medals or honors but survival. In the midst of flying shrapnel and bullets, there is a helpless feeling. No human being can control the destination of that flying metal, and those so subjected must depend upon Divine Providence. The survivors of war are forever searching for the answer to the question "Why me? Why did I survive when those within arm's length were killed?" Many a combat veteran has at least thought at one time or another that he must have been spared for a purpose. Some are still looking for a reason.

Don Lavender is a former Secretary Registrar (1974–79) of the Des Moines, Iowa, Scottish Rite Bodies. He is retired from the City of Des Moines Engineering Department and enjoys the hobbies of instrumental music and photography. This article marks the 50th publication by Ill. Lavender in the New Age Magazine and the Scottish Rite Journal.