We need Minnesota priests who wear combat boots

Editor’s note: As the nation honors men and women who have served in the military this Veterans Day, Nov. 11, Capt. Charles Anderson shares this reflection of appreciation for those who have served as Catholic military chaplains and the military’s continued need for chaplains.

In 2003, I was deployed as a military police officer in Iraq. During the invasion, we made several convoys to Camp Wolf, Kuwait, to transport Iraqis who were wounded and required advanced care. I was a sergeant at the time.

During one of those trips, I had to designate a secure area due to the sensitivity of the people we were escorting. We put up concertina wire and an entry control point. I gave my team orders not to allow anyone into the cordon. I set a watch and exhausted, stretched out on a cot to catch a quick nap. My short sleep was violently interrupted as I was shaken awake by one of my soldiers.

“Sergeant, there’s an officer outside that wants to get through our area.” That wasn’t going to happen. “Tell him to find another way around,” I groggily replied. I rolled over and closed my eyes again. Just as I started to drift off the soldier came back. “Sarge, he’s a colonel and he’s getting upset. He is demanding to talk to you.”

I begrudgingly got up, tied my boots, and shook off the hazy half-asleep feeling. I was grumpy. I thought to myself that this might be a good time to use the treasured retort from an enlisted military police officer to a commissioned officer: “Don’t confuse your rank with my authority.”

I went out into the hot, humid night, the darkness broken up with light posts, smoky generators chugging underneath them. The colonel (one rank below a general) explained that he was returning after a long day, his quarters were on the other side of my newly secured area, and it would take him an hour to go around and through another part of the base. It was clear he was tired and frustrated. I was about to explain that this was a problem for him and not for me when I saw the cross on his uniform lapel, indicating he was a Christian chaplain. I asked what flavor chaplain he was.

“I’m a Catholic priest,” he said.

“In that case, Father, come on through,” I replied.

Preferential treatment aside, Father Anthony Medairos and I have been friends ever since. He concelebrated my nuptial Mass and is the godfather to my youngest son. Our family has spent many happy summer vacations at his little cottage in Hyannis, Cape Cod. Just a few weeks ago he celebrated Mass in his kitchen for us — the first time my kids experienced that facet of the domestic Church.

It was also in Nasiriyah, Iraq (near the Temple of Ur in the land of the Chaldees — the birthplace of Abraham) where I met Father Eugene Theisen, who is now serving St. Wenceslaus in New Prague. He was in the Air Force as an active-duty chaplain at the time. His chapel was a literal oasis for me. He has a picture of me fast asleep before the Blessed Sacrament in the makeshift adoration chapel. I had just come back from a mission and was dead tired.

In 2021, I was deployed again to the Middle East, this time as a commissioned military intelligence officer for the Minnesota Army National Guard. Our task force served as the rapid response force based in Camp Buehring, Kuwait, and operated in hotspots around the theater. There was a chapel on our base, which is where I met Father Daniel Schwartz. He was a Marine from Ohio, and he told me of his encounter with the Companions of Christ in St. Paul, near the University of St. Thomas campus. These men had played a major role in his discernment of the priesthood, Father Schwartz said.

That August, my unit deployed forward during the Noncombatant Evacuation Operation (NEO) from Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul, Afghanistan. I saw Father Schwartz at Ali al Salem air base as we were about to board C-17s to Kabul. The city was about to be overrun by the Taliban as the regional government collapsed, leading to chaos and human catastrophe. (Is war ever anything but that?) He gave me a blessing. While at the Kabul airport he was on the south side with the Marines, and I was on the north side with the Army. He would be the one to give last rites to those who were injured or died at the Abbey Gate suicide attack.

More recently, I returned this spring from a NATO exercise in Mailly-le-Camp, France. There I went to Mass with soldiers from many different countries. The chaplain was a young missionary priest from Poland serving in the French 3rd Division. I think perhaps his French was worse than mine, but his hands were what mattered to me.

The clergy and laity of this archdiocese should know that there is currently only one priest serving the 15,000 soldiers and airmen and women of the Minnesota National Guard, a quarter of whom identify as Catholic. Just one. Without priest chaplains, the sacraments aren’t available to those serving our country. Chaplains of other faiths and denominations, though undoubtedly well-intended, are not a substitute.

I’m fortunate to know our solitary military chaplain, Father (Maj.) Michael Creagan. In fact, he’s my new pastor at St. Michael and St. Mary in Stillwater. He has said Mass in the barracks of Camp Ripley; in the desert of the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, California; at a chapel in the Balkans; and at forward operating bases in Logar, Paktia, Nangarhar and Parwan provinces of Afghanistan. He brings Christ in the sacraments, yes, but he also brings his presence in other ways — spiritually advising and mentoring servicemen and women who find themselves in a military culture that can be extremely challenging to a life of discipleship. Amid war, he brings with him a host of angels and saints to evil and violent places.

Please pray for the priests of this archdiocese to respond to the invitation to serve as a Minnesota National Guard chaplain, and for our bishops to support them. It is a vocation within a vocation. This is an additional duty. (Remember the old slogan of one weekend a month, two weeks a year?) Father Creagan needs help from his brothers, whether they hail from the dioceses of Crookston, Duluth, New Ulm, St. Cloud, St. Paul and Minneapolis, or Winona-Rochester.

Through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, may God grant us more priests who wear combat boots.

Father Timothy Vakoc, pray for us.

Father Vincent Capodanno, pray for us.

Servant of God Emil Kapaun, pray for us.

St. John of Capistrano, pray for us.

Anderson is a staff intelligence officer assigned to the Minnesota Army National Guard’s 1st Armored Brigade Combat Team of the 34th Infantry Division near Rosemount. In his civilian life, he is a commander with the St. Paul Police Department and a local elected official. He resides in Marine on St. Croix with his wife and four children. They are parishioners of St. Michael and St. Mary in Stillwater and their children attend Catholic schools.