Letters Exhibit
Captain Molton A. Shuler Jr. Writes Home About an Improvised
Church Service That He and Fellow Soldiers
Celebrated in the Midst of Battle
Personal commentary: A veteran of World War II, twenty-nine-year-old Molt Shuler was attending the University of South Carolina Law School in Columbia when his reserve unit was called to fight in Korea. As a student, married man, and father, Shuler could easily have obtained a deferment, but he felt an obligation to serve his country once again. Shuler has several letters featured in Grace Under Fire, and I find the one below especially compelling because it highlights the spiritual need to worship and give thanks to God, especially in a war zone.
Sunday nite 25 May 1952
Helen my Darling—
You are perfection—the paragon of womankind—and you’re my wife—and I adore you! And what’s more, your first 6 letters came today!…
Then there is another reason for my good spirits tonite—as if your letters were not enough. I went to church tonite. Let me paint you a word picture of the “church”. Picture a grassy hillside surrounded by mountains. And a rugged looking—crew hair cut and all—chaplain dressed in fatigues standing by a Government Issue folding podium with a red velvet cover and brass candelabra minus candles, all placed on a couple of ammo boxes.
Then just left of the “pulpit” as you face it you find a battered, 30-odd key, olive drab organ, a GI pianist seated on a 5 gallon gasoline can. And in the background you find blasted Chinese bunkers and old gun emplacements….
And God is in this “chapel”—so near you can almost reach out and touch him. And the chaplain says, “And men, in the days to come, you must remember the words of Christ when asked where He lived; ‘come and see’ ”.
Only a couple of times in my life before this evening, have I felt God’s presence in such a way. Perhaps it was the place and the time—I don’t know. Be that as it may, I liked the way I felt.
’Scuse me for trying to be literary. I didn’t mean to—as my efforts no doubt reveal. Goodnite dear and love our children for me—and miss me, please.
Your man always— Molt
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