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Text originally published in 1943 under the same title.
Pickle Partners Publishing 2015, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Publishers Note
Although in most cases we have retained the Authors original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern readers benefit.
We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.
THE CAPTAIN WEARS A CROSS
BY
WILLIAM A. MAGUIRE
Captain (Ch C), U.S.N. Staff, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force, San Diego Area
Photo by Lou Goodale Bigelow
WILLIAM A. MAGUIRE
Captain, (Ch C), U. S. N.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents
TABLE OF CONTENTS
REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER
DEDICATION
To the chaplains of the armed forces of the United Nations who have given their lives for God and country.
FOREWORD
THIS IS A BOOK about the men of our Navy written by a man who must know as many of them, and know them as well, as anyone who ever wore the Navys blue. Chaplain Maguire has, as much as any man I have ever known, a talent which is rarethe talent of knowing other men, not superficially or carelessly or through a veil of personal preconception, but as they are. To the varied, exacting tasks of his profession, he brings deep sympathy for other men and wide tolerance of their human foibles.
I saw those qualities exemplified when Chaplain Maguire served under me when I commanded the Scouting Force of the United States Fleet, I saw it in his day by day contact with the officers and men of the Force, to all of whomquite without regard to their religious convictionshe was a trusted friend. For, like all good priests, he was more than a priest. His conception of his duty as a chaplain only began with the discharge of his strictly priestly duties. I have no idea where it ended because I never saw its end.
Chaplain Maguires new book reflects the qualities of its author. It also reflects, to the discerning reader, the spirit which makes the United States Navy the great fighting team it is proving itself to be as I write these words. This is a book of countless stories of Navy men and of the families of Navy men. It shows them in battle and at prayer, in their homes and in their quarters. It tells alike of apprentice seamen and of admirals, because Chaplain Maguire is interested in all kinds of men. It tells of Catholics and Protestants and Jews; of serene men and worried men; of heroic death in line of duty and of long lives devoted to that same duty. There are stories in this book of that grim day at Pearl Harbor, when the men of our Navy came back fighting from a cowardly, bitter blow. There are stories of the distant days of peace, and of the closer, harder days which have come since the Japs stealthily attacked our ships as they lay at anchor.
It is a casual, discursive book and it is almost all about men of the Navy. Those who read it, if they read thoughtfully, will discover much of what our Navy is. They will better understand the fighting spirit, the heroism and the fortitude of our men, already exemplified so often and so gloriously in this war and among the best assurances of the wars successful outcome. For the men of whom Chaplain Maguire writes are typical of our Navy. So is the officer who writes of them.
ADOLPHUS ANDREWS,
Vice Admiral, U. S. Navy,
Commander, Eastern Sea Frontier.
INTRODUCTION
AT PEARL HARBOR in the Fall of 1941, Lord Louis Mountbatten, Captain of the Royal Navy, delivered an important lecture to the ranking officers of the Pacific Fleet. The admirals, their staffs and all commanding officers present, assembled in the auditorium of the submarine base to hear the distinguished naval officer, later vice admiral and British chief of the commandos, tell of his battle experiences in the Eastern Mediterranean. At the end of his thrilling account of the battle of Crete in which he described how the German Stukas bombed and sank his destroyer, the beloved Kelly, he allowed that the life of a destroyer man is not always a merry one.
He told us then of a destroyer that returned recently to a Channel port after many weeks at sea. The skipper, anticipating orders to return momentarily to the battle area, expected to find fuel available and stores neatly piled on the dock. But, to his utter dismay, he discovered that the commissary department of the dock-yard had ignored the fact of his arrival. With a hot burst of temper, he sent for one of his more pugnacious junior officers and voiced his resentment. Smithers, step ashore and tell those commissary people to bear a hand. You know what to say. Hurry, young man, and give em hell.
The young officer, elated with this chance to perform in the spotlight, rushed to a telephone and began, with gusto, to fire a broadside. You blasted blokes! Dont you know were at war? What have you done with our stores and fuel? Dont you realize we may get underway tonight? Youd better jolly well get the stuff down here, and no damn kidding.
A deep, stentorian voice stung his ear. Young man, do you know that youre addressing Vice Admiral Sir Sidney Windsor Winkle-Weather Drake?
The Junior Officer nervously replied, No, Sir. Then quickly gaining control, he inquired, But, Sir, do you know who this is?
The testy Admiral shouted, No, silly ass! Of course not.
The recipient of the good news, as he hung up the receiver, softly murmured, Thank you, Sir. Thats all I want to know. The auditorium rang with our applause.
With the smiling grace of a Sir Walter Raleigh, the future Chief of Combined Operations, who was obviously in a hurry to catch the afternoon clipper for a flight to San Francisco, waved a cheerful farewell and departed.
Recently I told this story to my friend, Chaplain Walter A. Mahler, while we were motoring to Casa de Anita, my home in the foothills beyond San Diego, California. We had both been ordered to proceed from Hawaii to San Diego for duty; he to the Marine Corps base and I to the naval training station. As we climbed the steep knoll to the hacienda, Father Walter remarked, Mac, it looks as though your book Rig for Church were doing quite well. A young Marine came to me today and said he liked it. It may become a best seller.
Stepping out of the car and affecting a limey accent, I replied, Thank you, old topthats all I want to know.
That same evening I broke out the typewriter, placed it on a table near the fireplace where Duffy, my fox terrier, looked up at me in amazement, and began to write this sequel to Rig for Church.
