Religion

Patton
It might strike as strange those who have followed General Patton’s fiery career in only a cursory manner to find that he was a religious man, indeed a devoutly religious man. Since General Patton was such a showman one might justifiably suspect that his overt devotion to religion displayed during World War II was only a front. However, a close study of his early life reveals that he had long been deeply religious. Two cousins had entered the ministry, and one biographer maintains that Patton himself gave serious thought to that calling. Since he had already decided he wanted to be a soldier more than anything else, he prayed that “he would not get the call” for the ministry. 
As a cadet at West Point, his roommate, Philip S. Gage, said Patton “was very religious, though he did not ‘wear it [his religion] on his sleeve.’ I believe he felt his religion was a very personal matter, and I can’t recall that he ever discussed his convictions with anyone, not even with me. He used to say his prayers nightly, and I’m positive he called on Divine guidance quietly in his inner person whenever he felt he needed it.” 
Patton was an avid polo player during his early military career. Before a game, he habitually knelt beside his bed to pray. “His helmet hung on the bedpost, his mallet leaning against the wall, and his polished boots stuck out behind him with the naked spurs upturned.” Once his wife asked him when he prayed like this before a match if he was praying to win the game and he answered, “Hell, no! I’m praying to do my best.” 
General Patton’s first combat was under General John J. Pershing in the Mexican Campaign of 1916. Before leaving for this assignment he gave his wife, Bea, a keepsake which had the word MIZPAH engraved upon it. The translation testifies both Patton’s religious belief and his close attachment to his wife: MIZPAH means, “The Lord watch between me and thee while we are parted from one another.” 
Nevertheless, some of Patton’s religious practices were characteristically unorthodox. During World War II, Patton was still saying his prayers at night, and their content was on occasion of questionable virtue by usual standards of Christianity. After he had been relieved of command in Sicily, he became bored and restless and asked General Mark Clark, who was commanding the American Army in Italy, for permission to visit his theatre. Clark, who had idealized Patton since his junior officer days, assented and he put up Patton in his quarters. The first evening they were together, Patton kneeled down to say his prayers before going to bed. After he was through, Clark, who had watched the reverent scene, asked him what he said in his prayers. Patton answered with a smile, “I prayed, Mark, that you would fall flat on your face and that I would be assigned to take your place.” 
When the then Colonel Patton was stationed at Fort Clark in Brackettville, Texas, before World War II, he insisted that no sermon given at the post chapel should be longer than ten minutes and so indicated to the chaplain. Then, on Sunday, he would sit in the front pew and look conspicuously at his watch when the sermon had been in progress for eight minutes. The sermons, it was reported, always finished within the allotted ten minutes. 
General Patton also maintained this policy in combat during World War II. In a letter dated September 26, 1943, to his father-in-law, who was also a close friend, he said, “I had all the non-Catholic chaplains in the other day and gave them hell for having uninteresting services. I am convinced that man does not want to be preached to on the Divinity of Christ or the efficacy of prayer--certainly not preached to for half an hour. I told them that I was going to relieve any preacher who talked more than ten minutes on any subject. I will probably get slapped down by the Church Union, but I am absolutely right.”
While Patton’s limitation on the length of sermons might shock some devout church members, it does not repudiate his deep and emotional faith in God. Many a theological school and seminary counsels its students that “no soul is saved after the first twenty minutes of a sermon.”
The episode of the “dry weather” prayer offers an interesting insight of General Patton’s independent religious outlook. In December 1944, during the critical Battle of the Bulge, Patton called on his Chief of Staff and the Third Army Chaplain, Colonel James H. O’Neill. Colonel Harkins, his Chief of Staff, reports the conversation: 
General Patton: “Chaplain, I want you to publish a prayer for good weather. I’m tired of these soldiers having to fight mud and floods as well as Germans. See if we can’t get God to work on our side.” 
Chaplain O’Neill: “Sir, it’s going to take a pretty thick rug for that kind of praying.” 
General Patton: “I don’t care if it takes the flying carpet. I want the praying done.” 
Chaplain O’Neill: “Yes, sir. May I say, General, that it usually isn’t a customary thing among men of my profession to pray for clear weather to kill fellow men.” 
General Patton: “Chaplain, are you teaching mc theology or are you the Chaplain of the Third Army? I want a prayer.” 
Chaplain O’Neill: “Yes, sir.” 
Outside, the Chaplain said, “Whew, that’s a tough one! What do you think he wants?” 
It was perfectly clear to me. The General wanted a prayer--he wanted one right now--and he wanted it published to the Command. 
The Army Engineer was called in, and we finally decided that our field topographical company could print the prayer on a small-sized card, making enough copies for distribution to the army. 
It being near Christmas, we also decided to ask General Patton to include a Christmas greeting to the troops on the same card with the prayer. The General agreed, wrote a short greeting, and the card was made up, published, and distributed to the troops on the twenty-second of December. 
Actually, the prayer was offered in order to bring clear weather for the planned Third Army break-through to the Rhine in the Saarguemines area, then scheduled for December 21. 
The Bulge put a crimp in these plans. As it happened, the Third Army had moved north to attack the south flank of the Bulge when the prayer was actually issued. 
PRAYER 
Almighty arid most merciful Father, we humbly beseech Thee, of Thy great goodness, to restrain these immoderate rains with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for Battle. Graciously hearken to us as soldiers who call upon Thee that, armed with Thy power, we may advance from victory to victory, and crush the oppression and wickedness of our enemies, and establish Thy justice among men and nations. Amen. 
Whether it was the help of the Divine guidance asked for in the prayer or just the normal course of human events, we never knew; at any rate, on the twenty-third, the day after the prayer was issued, the weather cleared and remained perfect for about Six days. Enough to allow the Allies to break the backbone of the Von Rundstedt offensive and turn a temporary setback into a crushing defeat for the enemy. 
We had moved our advanced Headquarters to Luxembourg at this time to be closer to the battle area. The bulk of the Army Staff, including the Chaplain, was still in Nancy. General Patton again called me to his office. He wore a smile from ear to car. He said, “God damn! look at the weather. That O’Neill sure did some potent praying. Get him up here. I want to pin a medal on him.” 
The Chaplain came up next day. The weather was still clear when we walked into General Patton’s office. The General rose, came from behind his desk with hand out-stretched and said, “Chaplain, you’re the most popular man in this headquarters. You sure stand in good with the Lord and soldiers.” The General then pinned a Bronze Star Medal on Chaplain O’Neill.
Everyone offered congratulations and thanks and we got back to the business of killing Germans--with clear weather for battle. P.D.H. 
The day before the prayer was passed out to the troops another member of General Patton’s staff pointed out to him that the prayer had been printed three weeks earlier. To this Patton replied, “Oh, the Lord won’t mind. I know He will understand. He knows we’re too busy right now killing Germans to print another prayer. It’s the spirit that counts with the Lord. And He knows I mean well.”
In countless interviews and in correspondence with members of the General’s staff, his corps commanders, division commanders, arid GI’s it was brought out that he attended the field worship services regularly. While showmanship was part of his leadership technique, there was no sham or show in his worship of God. People who had heard of his frequent use of profanity were surprised to find a Bible on the desk of his living quarters in the field. During a lull in the North African Campaign, General Patton took time to visit Jerusalem and he wrote that, “While I was in the chapel, I secured a rosary for Mary Scally and had it blessed on the altar.” Mary Scally had been his childhood nurse and was then ninety-six years old. This action was also indicative of Patton’s thoughtfulness. 
Patton’s belief in God’s help was an important source of strength to him in battle. The evening before the North African invasion he wrote in his diary, “Sea dead calm--no swell. God is with us.” His reliance on divine guidance is further illustrated by an earlier entry in his diary: “In forty hours I shall be in battle, with little information, and on the spur of the moment will have to make the most momentous decisions, but I believe that one’s spirit enlarges with responsibility and that, with God’s help, I shall make them amid make them right.” When things went well in the North African invasion he commented, “I guess I must be God’s most favorite person.” 
In one of his war letters to a friend, General Patton put his finger upon a vital aspect of the meaning of religion to the fighting man: 
Ever since I got to Sicily I have been going to Catholic churches largely for political reasons but also as a means of worshipping God, because I think He is quite impartial as to the form in which He is approached. 
This morning I went to the Episcopal Church and for the first time in my life found it crowded with American soldiers and sailors. I had very strange feelings in watching the faces and types of men who went to Communion. 
There were men with the shoulder patch of the 9th Division beside aviator ground crews who had never fired a shot or been in danger. There was an Irish Guardsman and a Navy cook; a 6’2” Goldstream Guard kneeling beside a little runt from the 1st Division who, to my certain knowledge, had killed a dozen men. It was a very strange mixture. Whether it is faith or superstition I do not know, but certainly it comes out in war and is coming out faster all the time.
After Patton’s victorious return to the United States in 1945, his final act before returning to Europe was to go to the church in Los Angeles where he had been baptized and confirmed, stating, “God has been very good to me, and I’d like to go there and give thanks to Him.” While there he spoke to a Sunday school class and told them how religion had given him great comfort during battle. He strongly encouraged them to develop their religious faith, “for if the day of war does come again, you will find strong support in religion.”