Rev. John B. Isom
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Camp Croft, South Carolina
US Army Infantry Replacement Training Center
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John Isom was born
December 2, 1909 on Sand Mountain in northern
Alabama. In 1939 he graduated with a masters in theology from the
Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. In 1944, after serving as an
Army
chaplain during WW II he became pastor of the Saxon Baptist Church in
Spartanburg, South Carolina. Isom left the Baptist denomination
in
1951 to become a Unitarian minister. John retired from the First
Unitarian Church of Des Moines, Iowa in
1975.
His recollections below
are taken, with permission, from his web site at:
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Camp Croft was
located five miles south east of Spartanburg, South
Carolina. Most of the buildings were two stories and weather
boarded
with white composition shingles. The camp is spread out over
rolling
hills with paved streets and side walks. Compared with Camp Croft
one
would have to say that Camp Sibert was a slum camp of the Army.
There
were four regular chapels, complete with electric organs. I was
assigned to chapel one. It stood on a small hill just inside the
main
gate to the camp. On a rise a block west stood the camp
headquarters,
the post office, Post Exchange, and the camp library. The
hospital was just beyond
and
the officers club nearby.
I
was the chaplain of the First Battalion. Camp Croft was a
training
camp for foot soldiers - soldiers who actually aimed and fired their
guns at "enemies" they could see, while being shot at by their enemies'
counterpart. We turned out a new batch of soldiers, who could do
such
things, every seventeen weeks. Before coming to Croft some of
them had
never had a gun in their hands. Even a greater number had never
shot
anything. When they left Croft they were ready to kill and be
killed.
The
seventeen weeks training was capped off by a two week maneuver
period. The staging area was some miles from camp. There we
lived in
tents and the war games were with live ammunition. For one day
you had
to make do with one canteen of water. This was really hard in the
summer time. For two days you had only emergency food, C and K
rations.
The
battalion marched to the staging area. Two weeks later, leaving
the staging area at twelve midnight we made a twenty-mile forced march
back to camp. I was not required to go on these maneuvers but I
always
did, marching with the troops both ways. Mickey, my dog, and I
always
brought up the rear.
Just
after breakfast on April 27th, 1944, I was
informed by
long distance that your youngest daughter, Mary Beth, had arrived in
good shape. Wish I could have been there to give her a fatherly
welcome and hear her first comments. They were loud enough, I
later
learned, if not too clear. She was such a beautiful day old baby
that
the hospital took pictures of her to use in their advertising
literature to prove what beautiful babies were born in the
hospital. I
found a place for the family to live in Spartanburg. As soon as
they
were able I fetched them. It was blazing hot the day we made the
trip,
tiresome for all of us.
I had a sermon I
gave to each new battalion of troops. It began with
the contention that war is hell and when you are in hell you have no
choice but to engage in hellish business. I confessed that I
could
believe the peoples of the world would have a better chance to create a
better world after the war if the Allies won. However, I made it
clear
I would not try to do the impossible - to justify our military
activities by the ethics of the Christian religion. Silently,
that
seemed to be the position of all the Chaplains I knew. No soldier
ever
heard me pray for victory, or to make any claim that God was on our
side, or that our cause was altogether just. I did not pretend
the war
was a holy war.
I
pointed out that on the law of averages more than ninety-five percent
of us would survive the war and would have a chance to help reshape the
post war world. I encouraged them, while they were engaged in the
hellish business of fighting the war, to be preparing themselves
intellectually and ethically to engage in the non hellish business of
creating a decent human world after the war.
Most
of the men who took basic training at Croft were from the
northeastern states. It was never made clear what the purpose or
motive was but the churches of those states sent visiting ministers to
Camp Croft. East visitor would stay a month. The chaplains
had a
weekly meeting on Monday mornings. These visiting ministers were
always invited, and given the opportunity to be the guest speaker at
one of the meetings.
One
of the visiting ministers talked about a serious reading program
for ministers. He used his own as an example. Before a book
had a
chance to be considered to be worth reading it had to be no less than a
hundred years old. Most of the books on his reading list ere much
more
than a hundred years old. I had the same objection to his book
list as
I had for the list recommended by the Great Books Club. I
believed
then, and still do, that any serious reading program should begin with
the serious writers of the present - the 20th century. I
believe the knowledgeable and serious writers of every discipline is
more capable of helping me to understand the realities of my world than
the ancient writers, however great, who lived and died before my actual
world was born.
I
remember one other of the dear visiting ministers. He was
approaching retirement age, a kind and gentle soul. One day in my
office I was trying to pick his brain to see what kind of wisdom he had
been taught through his many years of experience and study. I was
asking for his opinion and advice concerning the serious economic,
political and ethical problems that my generation had to deal
with. He
did not seem to have much aged wisdom to offer me about such
matters.
In fact it appeared that he had yet to give much thought to the
questions I was asking. He did finally say, "Son, is not sin the
cause
for all our problems?" That ended the conversation.
A
poor country boy, born and reared some miles from Spartanburg,
through some act of bravery became a war hero over night. His
parents
were poor tenant farmers. The editor of the daily paper of
Spartanburg
learned the hero was coming home soon and he and his childhood
sweetheart were getting married. The editor of the paper
sponsored a
movement to raise funds to outfit the young couple with a farm, home
and essential farming equipment. [Webmaster note: the "poor country
boy" was Thomas E. Atkins, Medal of Honor
Recipient for action at Villa Verde Trail, Luzon, Phillipine Islands]
I
sent in a small donation for the cause with a note saying, "I would
rather contribute more toward helping to create a human society in
which it would be possible for every young couple to begin their living
together in their own decent home, be they a war hero, soldier or
civilian." |
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