Mission at Nuremberg by Tim Townsend

and a brass Holy Communion kit.
    In his first monthly report, Gerecke decided the “squeaky-wheel” approach might work with his superiors in the Chief of Chaplains office. “A fine chapel with office in rear,” he wrote. However, “chaplains outfit not complete. Our little organ is lent to us by the neighborhood vicar. We do not have our own organ or piano for the chapel. At the moment we have no hymnals. Hope to have at least a field organ and hymnals very soon.”
    On May 16, he received a letter from a senior chaplain. “In Par. 6b, it is noted that your Chaplain’s Outfit is not complete. Will you advise this office what is being done to obtain these deficiencies?” When the appropriate gear arrived, Geist finally had an army-issue, GI field organ.
    Inside, the chapel was surprisingly roomy and could seat two hundred. Gerecke and Geist set up a white altar with a black cross cut out of the center panel. Gerecke laid a white cloth on top of the altar and set a large wooden cross in the middle in front of the Bible. On either side of the cross, they kept either two candles or fresh flowers. Gerecke hung black drapes behind the altar and a large American flag above.
    Geist was an accomplished musician, and when he wasn’t playing Gospel hymns for Gerecke, typing up the chaplain’s reports, driving him around in his jeep, organizing the chapel, or riding his bicycle, “Old Faithful,” in service of whatever Gerecke needed him to do, he also played piano in the Ninety-Eighth General Hospital Orchestra.
    Gerecke and Geist became close to Rev. O. E. Owens, the local vicar in Hermitage, and his wife, Win. The couple had twin daughters, Menna and Eryl, and Gerecke visited their home for dinner at least once each week. Pastor Owens helped the hospital chaplains when the patient load grew unmanageable. The Owens home was one of about three hundred British homes near Hermitage that welcomed members of the Ninety-Eighth during the hospital unit’s yearlong stay.
    Sullivan encouraged exchange visits for his staff with other Allied bases and British civilians. He invited both groups to dances on post and loaned out the Ninety-Eighth General Hospital Orchestra to other nearby units for their dances. He believed that recreation was an important component for patient recovery and staff morale, so he encouraged a lot of it. Immediately after the unit’s arrival, he asked that three movies be shown each week. Over time there were nightly screenings in two locations on the hospital campus, and Sullivan requisitioned a local projectionist on a full-time basis.
    There was a heavy emphasis on physical conditioning and reconditioning at the Ninety-Eighth, and the unit offered daily calisthenics, road marches, and bike rides. A large Nissen hut was built to house a gymnasium. The unit organized frequent dances, including a monthly dance at the Corn Exchange—a nineteenth-century building once used as a corn and wool market in nearby Newbury that had been transformed into a public entertainment space—for the medical detachment. The nurses organized weekly dances at the Officers and Nurses Club, and enlisted men invited local girls to their dances.
    Besides a dedicated chapel, another bonus, Gerecke noted, was that the army had finally supplied the Ninety-Eighth with a Catholic chaplain. The unit was made up of 56 percent Protestants by the time it reached England. But more than a third of the Ninety-Eighth was Catholic, and Gerecke was desperate for a priest to help minister to them.
    That promising situation didn’t last. Geist reported to Gerecke that the new Catholic chaplain treated his own clerk badly. “Stay out of it,” Gerecke advised Geist. But not long afterward, as Gerecke approached the chapel office, he heard yelling, followed by a distinct slapping sound. Gerecke walked into the office and saw the private holding his jaw. He asked what had happened, but