They have chosen a different path, but chaplains need leadership, mentoring, and care like all service members. (U.S. Marine Corps / A. J. Van Fredenberg)
I was a battalion executive officer, and we were doing a memorial for a soldier who had passed away. The chaplain, Tom, came to talk with me about some details of the ceremony, and as he spoke, I noticed how exhausted he looked. He had withdrawn from Air Assault School—something he’d been looking forward to (and training for) for months—because of the fatality. The number of soldiers visiting him for counseling had increased dramatically in the wake of the death of this popular soldier.
Tom was a caring, conscientious chaplain who took the duty of shepherding our soldiers very seriously and personally; their hurts were his hurts. He asked me about a few details of the ceremony. I realized he was asking for my advice and guidance.
At that moment, it hit me. I had never been completely out of my element until I had an ordained minister, a “man of the cloth,” look to me for leadership.
I’d never been taught how to lead a chaplain. I had to teach myself, on the job, and, frankly, I’m not sure I did it that well. Here are a few things I learned, however, and I hope they can help others.
They Need to be Mentored
These are officers. They have careers just like you, and someday one of them will be Chief of Chaplains of his or her respective service. Many of them are direct commission, without a lot of the beginner-level hazing and learning-under-fire that the rest of us go through.
Your chaplain may not know how to make a rack, how to wear a cover, or how to pack a ruck for a 20-mile forced march. They need to be taught just like any other new lieutenant—but unlike most new lieutenants, they don’t have a platoon sergeant. Most battalion-level chaplains just have an enlisted chaplain’s assistant who doesn’t have the wherewithal to tell an officer he’s wrong.
My own chaplain was prior service, so we didn’t need to teach him much. But realize when you get a new chaplain, you may be getting the equivalent of a new private, and you have to figure out how much you need to teach him or her. And if the answer is “a lot,” you need to suck it up and do it. The soldiers will not be well served by a shepherd who doesn’t know what they do.
Keep in mind a good chaplain goes everywhere and anywhere. During my 2011–12 tour, our battalion chaplain made an effort to visit the joes even at remote, austere combat outposts. A chaplain from another battalion did not—he preached at main forward operating bases and never visited the guys in the sticks or went outside the wire. Nobody liked that guy. If the chaplain is going to visit the guys in the field, if he goes on patrols with the joes, he can’t be a liability. And if you’ve properly mentored him, he’ll want to do those things.
They Need to be Cared For
I won’t say how many soldiers we buried in the two years I was executive officer and Tom was our chaplain, but it was a lot for a unit not deployed. I remember after one fatality, one of my company commanders was waiting outside my office when I got to work.
“Tom needs some time off,” this captain told me.
I stopped lacing my running shoes and looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Sir, he’s been in my company for hours every day this week, he’s been seeing my soldiers in his own office, and I know he’s fielded calls from them late at night. Look at him. He’s burning the candle at both ends. I like him. I don’t want a good chaplain to burn out.”
Let your chaplains pull long hours if they’re putting together a funeral or nursing a unit through a crisis, but then insist they take a week of leave. Don’t let the garrison chaplain bully them into taking the duty chaplain phone when they need to recharge.
If they’re preaching at the post chapel, go see them. It won’t hurt you to skip a Sunday at your normal church or to get up early on a Sunday if you’re not of a faith. Even if you’re bored out of your skull, let him or her see you sitting there.
Chaplains are people. They’ve chosen a different path, but they’re still people. They cry. They laugh. They grieve. They feel the guilt of survival, or the horror of the memory of war. Remember that. Their mental health and stability aren’t any less fragile because they’re men and women of the cloth.
They Need Good Report Cards
Is your chaplain great? He deserves to be rated that way. In the Army, all officers of the same rank are rated against one another, no matter what their occupational specialty is. You can play a bit of a numbers game with rating periods and your rating profile, but you still have to rack and stack your officers against others of the same rank.
Rate your chaplain number one if he is number one. If he knows regulations far outside the chaplain lane—for example, admin and medical readiness and property accountability—better than the supposed experts, if he works himself like a rented mule, if he seeks out challenges and ways to further his education, not for self-aggrandizement or glory, but to make himself a better-rounded soldier, then he should get a good report card.
Young chaplains always get shorted. An armor battalion commander usually isn’t going to rate a chaplain above his armor officers. An aviation battalion commander isn’t going to rate a chaplain above his aviation officers. Chaplains don’t get to command as in most other fields, so it means a lot when one gets a number one or even top block.
Someday your chaplain might be the Chief of Chaplains. If he’s good—if he’s great, like Tom was for me—don’t you want to give him the report cards that will set him up for that?
Your chaplains need to be developed and mentored just like any other officers; they need to be challenged and nurtured; and, just like the rest of us, they need good evaluations. They’re also pretty good at helping you with your own difficulties, so even if you might outrank him or her, why don’t you go talk to your chaplain?