[JMI]

Originally Posted by Jack Moroney

We had a Catholic chaplin in the 10th SFG in the early 70s that had a bulldog that he would bring to mass. The dog would sit quietly, I guess you might call him an alter dog for lack of a better term, at the foot of the alter during Mass after following his master in and then at the end of mass he would follow him out. Now back in those days we were all in the temporary WWII buildings and the chapel , being of the same construction, was nestled in the woods. It was one of the early Spring Sunday mornings when the buds were popping, the birds were in fine voice, and the chapel was bathed in a warmer than normal sun. In order to capture the local ambience of such a fine day the doors were left wide open and the aroma of early blossoms wafted into the building. Now, while I think the door was left open to draw in those few non-church folks that needed to make good on that silent prayer thanking the Big Guy for the successful opening of that old T-10 without twists, it was the arrival of two very amourous chipmunks that came sliding and skidding down those old over polished red linomleum floors. The alter dog, breaking his training regimen as alter dog, took off down the aisle after those two stripped rodents and disappeared outside. Mass ended shortly after-that.

Now I am not a church goer and the Battalion Chaplain had been trying to gather up his flock ever since he arrived at his new duty station in Korea. He was a great guy, good sense of humor, but could be just a little bit of a pain in the 4th POC about the need for folks to attend his service. For the first 6 months I just did not have time to go as I was the Battalion "3" and spent most of my time either out checking training, running operations, or preparing training and Sunday was a good day to make sure things were straight for the upcoming week. A good friend of mine, Bill Olds, whom some of you might know and many of you have seen as the NVA General being skyhooked during "The Green Berets", talked me into accompanying him to Christmas mid-night Mass . He was convinced I needed some devine "guidance" and because I would normally be sleeping at this time he reasoned that I had no other diversions to keep me from having my soul saved. For some reason, that was soon to become apparent after I walked into the chapel at Camp Hovey, Bill was late and we hustled to get to the service. As we walked into the building the place was packed and the Chaplain had started his service. He looked up, saw me coming in the door, quietly stopped his deliberations, smiled one of those all knowing and triumphant grins as if to say "finally" and with great sense of purpose walked over to the wall of the church throwing himself against the pillar as if to keep the place from collapsing. Must have worked, the building did not fall

Another great story. Somebody has to prod you into writing a book. People rarely have such mental capacity to remember the details, and even fewer can put it into words. Damn shame you're not typing away now, sir.