Father Peter Whelan, OSB, Catholic CSA Chaplain

Father Peter Whelan, O.S.B., C.S.A.

by

J.C. Sullivan

To describe the life and times of one immigrant to the American South could be also be aptly titled "Holy Men in Modern Times." One chapter would describe Wexford-born Peter Whelan. Oh, he was human, to be sure, but his devotion to God and his fellow man is evident in the way he chose to live his life. He was also a Confederate Chaplain to Irish-Americans in the Montgomery Guards, part of the 1st Georgia Volunteers.

Peter Whelan was born in 1802 in County Wexford, Ireland. He attended Birchfield College in Kilkenny for two years, where he received classical and mathematical education. He may have been influenced by the desperate appeal of John England, the bishop of the new diocese of Charleston, South Carolina. Priests were sorely needed, particularly in the South. He was ordained a priest of the Benedictine Order in Charleston on November 21, 1830. He offered his first Mass in the state of Georgia in 1835 in the home of Robert Semmes. In 1854 a yellow fever epidemic claimed the life of Savannah's first Bishop, Frances Gartland in 1854. Father Whelan was summoned to Savannah and was stationed there for the remainder of his life.

In September 1861 Bishop Augustine Verot was named the third Bishop of the Savannah Diocese, which was formed in 1850. Arriving at his new post from Florida, he was asked to send a chaplain to Fort Pulaski. The Fort, on the Savannah River, guarded the approaches to the city. It was thought to be impregnable as no artillery shells could be directed at it from any nearby land. Part of the garrison there were Catholic troops, in particular the Montgomery Guards, mostly Irish from Savannah.

The militia unit was organized on August 20, 1861. Not having their own banner, Captain Lawrence J. Guilmartin contacted the Sisters of Mercy in Savannah. After Mass on Saint Patrick's Day, 1862, a presentation ceremony was held. Private Bernard O'Neill was appointed standard-bearer and Major John Foley presented it to him.

Father Whelan was present on April 10, 1862 when Federal forces began an artillery bombardment of the Fort. Using new 'rifled' artillery, the rounds were able to reach the outer walls from Tybee Island, more than a mile away. Thirty hours later, with one wall breached by the shot, it was determined that the entire ammunition magazine was in danger of exploding, If that happened the entire garrison would be killed. Colonel Charles H. Olmstead agreed to surrender. Now prisoners-of-war, Father Whelan and the Montgomery Guards were transported to Governor's Island, New York. Bernard O'Neill hid the banner on his person.

Wartime conditions persisted for prisoners and Father Whelan, through the office of Father William Quinn, pastor of St. Peter's Church, Barclay St., New York, applied for the position of Prison Chaplain so he could offer daily Mass at Castle William. Through Father Quinn he was discharged and put on parole. Father Whelan could have left but he chose to remain with his men and minister to them. He eventually returned to Savannah where the Vicar General assigned him the task of overseeing the spiritual needs of the confederate military posts in Georgia.

On one occasion another CSA chaplain, the Reverend James Sheeran of the 14th Louisiana, on leave from Virginia, visited him. In his diary he observed, "He stands nearly six feet with drab hair, coarse ill shaped countenance, round or swinging shoulders, long arms, short body and long legs, with feet of more than ordinary size.... One day he met a brother priest, to whom nature was no more liberal than to himself. "Well," said he, "...your mother and mine must have been women of great virtue....because they did not drown us when the first saw us. None but mothers of great...patience would have raised such ugly specimens of humanity."

During May of the same year Fr. William Hamilton, pastor of Assumption Church in Macon, accidentally came upon Andersonville Prison and stopped to learn how many Catholics were there. His experience led him to petition the Vicar, suggesting a priest be provided; Father Whelan was asked. He arrived at Andersonville on June 16, 1864. Even though other priests and the Bishop visited briefly, Whelan remained for four months. Although he never penned his feelings, a pastor from Macon did. "I found the stockade extremely filthy: the men all huddled together and covered with vermin....they had nothing under them but the ground."

At the fall of the Confederacy, Father Whelan returned to Savannah and served there until 1868. Now aged sixty-nine and in failing health from his wartime tribulations, he administered his last baptism in 1871 and died in February of the same year. The funeral procession was reported in the Savannah Evening News as the longest ever seen in the city. After a 10:00 a.m. Mass a procession of eighty-six carriages and buggies of civilians, religious societies and Irish organizations escorted his mortal remains through Savannah's crowd-lined streets to the Catholic Cemetery. Colonel Olmstead led Confederate Army and Navy veterans. An officer who knew Father Whelan said, "I followed this good old man to his grave with a sense of exultation as I thought of the welcome that awaited him from the Master whose spirit he had caught and made the rule of his live."


Bibliography
Gilliam Bowen, Diocese of Savannah
Father Whelan of Fort Pulaski and Andersonville, Georgia Historical Quarterly, Spring, 1987.

The Irish in Savannah

Father Joseph T. O'Callahan, Medal of Honor receipient

Joseph Timothy O'Callahan was born in Boston, Massachusetts on May 14,1905. He graduated from Boston College Preparatory School in 1922, and entered the Jesuit Order of the Roman Catholic Church shortly thereafter.

He received his bachelor's degree in 1925, master's degree in 1929, and became ordained in the Jesuit Order on 30 Jun 1934. Between 1927 and 1937, he was a professor of Mathematics, Philosophy, and Physics at Boston College.

Between 1937 and 1938, he was a professor of Philosophy at the Jesuit seminary of Weston College in Massachusetts. Between 1938 and 1940, he was the Director of the Mathematics Department at the College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Massachusetts.

On 7 Aug 1940, Father O'Callahan was commissioned a lieutenant (jg) in the United States Naval Reserve Chaplain Corps, assigned to the Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Florida, United States. He was at Pensacola when the United States entered the war.

In 1942, O'Callahan was assigned to the aircraft carrier Ranger, serving off Norway and French Morocco. Between 1944 and March 1945, he served at the Naval Air Stations at Alameda, California and Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

On February 12, 1945, he came aboard the aircraft carrier Franklin. On March 19, while only 50 miles off the Japanese home islands as indirect support for the Okinawa campaign, the carrier was attacked by a single Japanese dive bomber. Two 250-kilogram bombs hit the carrier, igniting fires and leaving the ship dead in the water with a 13-degree list.

Lieutenant Commander O'Callahan was in the thick of the raging fires, comforting his injured comrades and administering last rites to the dying while assisting with damage control tasks, despite also being wounded.

US Marine Corps pilot Mike Sansone helped manning fire hoses in a makeshift firefighting team led by O'Callahan; he recalled him bravely leading teams into the fire, safely bringing them out when explosions got too dangerous,and inspiring the men to go back in again when the shrapnels stopped flying.

"He couldn't be everyplace at once, though it seemed like he was." He also went down deep into the ship several times to lead over 700 men to safety. Franklin's commanding officer, Captain Leslie Gehres, described O'Callahan as "the bravest man I ever saw".

He was recommended for, and received, the Medal of Honor. The citation reads:

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as Chaplain on board the U.S.S. Franklin when that vessel was fiercely attacked by enemy Japanese aircraft during offensive operations near Kobe, Japan, on 19 March 1945. A valiant and forceful leader, calmly braving the perilous barriers of flame and twisted metal to aid his men and his ship, Lt. Comdr. O'Callahan groped his way through smoke-filled corridors to the open flight deck and into the midst of violently exploding bombs, shells, rockets and other armament. With the ship rocked by incessant explosions, with debris and fragments raining down and fires raging in ever-increasing fury, he ministered to the wounded and dying, comforting and encouraging men of all faiths; he organized and led firefighting crews into the blazing inferno on the flight deck; he directed the jettisoning of live ammunition and the flooding of the magazine; he manned a hose to cool hot, armed bombs rolling dangerously on the listing deck, continuing his
efforts despite searing, suffocating smoke which forced men to fall back gasping and imperiled others who replaced them. Serving with courage, fortitude and deep spiritual strength, Lt. Comdr. O'Callahan inspired the gallant officers and men of the Franklin to fight heroically and with profound faith in the face of almost certain death and to return their stricken ship to port."

O'Callahan was promoted to the rank of commander in Jul 1945 and transferred to the Navy Department and then to the Naval Training Station, Newport, Rhode Island, United States, through the end of the war.

In October 1945, he was assigned to the newly commissioned aircraft carrier Franklin D. Roosevelt. In 1946, he served as Escort Chaplain as the body of the late Filipino President Manuel Quezon was carried from the United States to Manila, Philippine Islands. Released from active duty in November 1946, he returned to his civilian profession as a professor at Holy Cross College. He retired from the United States Naval Reserves in Nov 1953 and was promoted to the rank of captain on the retired list. He passed away at Worcester, Massachusetts in 1964.

The destroyer escort USS O'Callahan was commissioned in 1968 in his honor.

Sources: Inferno, United States Navy Naval Historical Center, Wikipedia.

Michael Corcoran, Medal of Honor recepient

MICHAEL CORCORAN
8th US Cavalry, Indian Wars



The family of Michael, Albert, James, Robert, Patti and Donna, we are delighted to have located you and be with you today. The Corcoran surname is found in ancient Irish annals. According to Edward MacLysaght, there are the Mac Corcrain sept (corcair purple), who are of the Ely O'Carroll country in County Offaly and there are the O Corcrain, who were an ecclesiastical family located near Lough Erne, County Fermangh.

Why have we gathered here today at Calvary Cemetery on behalf of one who bore the Corcoran name? Some would call these grounds a resting place for the dead. I look around me and see it is ground for the living.

In 1869, while Andrew Johnson was serving his last year as President, Michael Corcoran, a fellow 'Desert Rat,' served with the U.S. Army in the great Mojave Desert, territory of Arizona. It did not become a state until 1912. The United States at that time was younger, expanding westward to a place where the cultures of the Native American, and other Americans, clashed. Violence and savagery defined the borders

Military service in any desert is not easy duty. Back then it was even harder. Besides the dry heat of the day, the thirst, sudden nosebleeds and the surprising cold of the night, the troopers of the 8th Cavalry were confronted with the ever-present danger of violent death. In one of Corporal Corcoran's letters he wrote, "We had several fights with the Apache Indians this last winter. There is not a day but someone is shot here.....We had three men shot since we got here this spring."

The 8th Cavalry was up against the Apache; the name being a Zuni word meaning "enemy." Their own name for themselves was "Inde", or "the people." By 1869 Apaches were already veterans of fights against the Spanish Conquistadors and the Mexican Army. During Corporal Corcoran's military service the Apache nation was led by a man who has been called "a brilliant personal and charismatic leader, and immensely spiritual." We all know his name - Geronimo.

We don't know exactly what individual actions Corporal Corcoran took on that August day in 1869. We know he displayed courage, valor and unselfishness when he took action against an enemy of the day. Nonetheless, it tells us much about who Michael Corcoran was. In 1916 the government dropped 911 names from the roster of the Medal of Honor. Michael Corcoran's name was not one of them. His discharge papers simply say, "He was a good, sober and faithful soldier." His great-grandson Robert recalls that Michael enjoyed a cup on occasion.

We are here today because of our link to the past. The ancient Celts believed that death in this life meant birth into another life. And, consequently, they believed that birth into this life meant death from the other. While there can be no doubt Corporal Corcoran found himself in a situation that called upon this character and his military training, he didn't flee when danger presented itself. He respected himself and his "Band of Brothers.

General John P. Jumper, former Chief of Staff, United States Air Force, spoke to a graduating NCO Class at Maxwell AFB, Alabama. "The character we seek to define is the fire of conscience that burns within us and superintends our conduct over a lifetime. But character is out of vogue in this world, whose standards are set more by the culture of Beavis and Butthead or the Simpsons, than by the standards of, say, our founding fathers: like John Adams, Thomas Jefferson or James Madison. These men were truly unique. They transitioned easily from the pulpit, to the plowshare, to the musket. They wrote the history of their time with powerful words that will live forever: The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Federalist Papers; and they used words we don't hear today, words that describe the supreme traits of virtue and character that inspired them."

The Irish, it is sometimes said, suffer from too much history. It could be equally stated that Americans suffer from too little. Corporal Corcoran's act of valor on that day so long ago speaks to us of character and individuality.

On Friday, May 31, 1889, twenty years after his actions in the desert, this loving father and husband again saw the need to take immediate action. Perhaps he heeded telegraphed warnings from Elias Unger, President of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. Unger had warned that the old "South Fork Dam," fourteen miles up the Little Connemaugh River, might give away. The dam, 450 feet higher than Johnstown, held the 3-mile long Lake Connemaugh. At 3:15 pm it broke, sending a crescendo of 20 million tons of oily and muddy water rushing down the Connemaugh valley at forty miles per hour. Over 2,000 people died and thousands more were injured in what has become known as "the Johnstown Flood." Again, by his individual action, reputed physical strength and possiobly help from others, Michael Corcoran demonstrated his character by saving his family from injury or death by drowning. He moved them all to higher ground before the floodwaters devoured most of the city.

If we chose to further examine the character of Michael Corcoran we would first see the character of the parents who raised him. We would also see others who were a part of his life; brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. And we would see him in his descendents today.

Perhaps the energy created here today by our presence and our prayers, will reach the spirit of both Michael Corcoran and his spouse Johanna Culliton. Perhaps this energy will nourish their spirit... and ours as well.

-30-

Saint Patrick's Day in Savannah

JC & Cairenn Sullivan



Six years had passed since we last visited Savannah. The occasion in 1995 was their Irish Cultural Festival, now in its ninth year. We went at that time to witness the event that was begun so the Irish of Savannah could show their children there is more than being Irish than being in a slight state of inebriation and wearing a green plastic hat That was then, this was now ….we were going to be a part of the green plastic hat crowd.

Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland all come to mind when one thinks about being Irish In America. But, the American South? Who would think of Savannah, Georgia, a town with about eleven Catholic churches in it?

The community here has a very long tradition of honoring Saint Patrick. In his book The Days We've Celebrated, the late William L. Fogarty discovered the first official invitation to a 'public observance' was found in the 1813 minutes of the Hibernian Society of Savannah

The closest we could get a room was at the Days Inn, Oglethorpe Mall. We took a bus downtown on the 16th to witness the service honoring Sgt William Jasper, an Irish American Revolutionary War hero who died defending Savannah against the British. The ceremony was very colorful, with speeches from military officers from Fort Stewart and Hunter Air Force Base being the highlight. The pipe band from the Irish Air Force, Dublin, Ireland, was present for the ceremony.

Knowing other Hibernians is a true blessing, We linked up with our friends Don & Patti Fallon, who we had initially met in Louisville, KY. Don is a Parade Marshal and is plugged into the hierarchy of Savannah's Irish community. We enjoyed a reception at the K of C Hall afterwards and were also invited to a private party at the Hilton. Hosted by Mr. It was here I got my first taste of Midleton Irish whiskey. The bottle comes in a wooden box and allegedly one cannot procure it in this country. One sip of it is enough to establish it as the finest and smoothest to ever cross these Irish lips!

Mass is celebrated early on Saint Patrick's Day - 8:30 a.m. - at the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist. Afterwards Savannah's Irish-born Bishop J. Kevin Boland joined the outdoor celebration and struck up a conversation with some Irish lads from County Cork, the band Natural Gas. Together they sang On the Banks Of My Own Lovely Lee. As reported in the Savannah Morning News, Tim O'Riordan said, "Whenever Cork people meet away from home that's the song we sing. It puts some strength into the soul." Boland, in Savannah for forty years, said, "How can you miss home with something like this? We are at home. All the Irish are at home in Savannah."

It would have been too difficult to get to the early Mass from the Oglethrope Mall so Saint Patrick's Day began for us with bus ride downtown. For a buck each way, the Chatham Area Regional Transit (CHART) folks moved busses from the Mall on a continual basis. Although the line was very long, they did a commendable job of moving the large crowd. Once downtown we began to walk towards the marshaling area for the early 10:30 a.m. start. We decided to park ourselves and wait for the Ancient Order of Hibernians and the Ladies AOH to come by us. It wasn't long before they appeared and we joined them for the parade. What a great experience it was - all this and a temperature in the 70s!

The streets of Savannah being old, are also narrow, affording we marchers the opportunity to speak to the parade watchers without shouting. The crowd is lively and spirited, in town specifically for the parade. Official estimates later put it at 400-500,000. We had fun placing beads around the necks of small children, with Mom and Dad's permission, of course.

The young ladies of Savannah make a great sport of smooching parade walkers, especially the military. You see them on the sidelines, lipstick in hand, reloading their lips as they reconnoiter their target. Then, like hawks circling field mice, they spring into action and swoop down on the unsuspecting, planting a perfect red lip tattoo on a surprised cheek. It was charming to see an Army Ranger Platoon Leader hard-pressed to stifle a bemused smile.

At the end of the parade we went to the K of C Hall where a rock 'n roll band was just setting up. One of their tunes was the old hit by Jay and the Americans, This Magic Moment. I thought it aptly described Saint Patrick's Day everywhere, especially Savannah.

We partook of refreshments being offered and chatted with many people, including Savannah oncologist Dr. Jim Burke. His dad , also Dr. Jim, and mother, originally from Chicago, are now retired in Florida and were staying in town with son Jim. Much later, looking out the window, we were surprised to see the parade still going by. We estimate it was about four and a half hours long, the largest we've ever witnessed.

We had a return token on CHART and decided to take the return bus to Oglethorpe Mall, arriving back early evening. Our intent was to catch a little R & R but, alas, the spirit was willing but the flesh…….we didn't get back downtown that evening. Boy, are we dating ourselves?

The town of Savannah knows how to promote itself. The Savannah Morning News, for example, dedicated at least four and one-half pages to Saint Patrick's Day, two of which were full color photos. As well they should - the estimated revenue brought into the city by this event is 23 million buckaroos.

There Should've Been a Piper

ON THE OCCASION OF THE RE-DEDICATION OF A BROOKLYN, OHIO PLAYGROUND IN THE NAME OF CORPORAL JAMES P. BROCK, USMC, VIETNAM KIA.
Sunday, July 27, 2008. 2:00 p.m.

Today is Brooklyn, Ohio’s 2008 Memorial Day. This playground is being re-dedicated to honor the memory and spirit of one of Brooklyn's own, Corporal James P. Brock. I am honored to be a part of this and I thank Mayor Patton for the opportunity to take the name of Corporal James P. Brock from a playground sign and bring him to life.

I first met Jim back in 1957 when we were both newcomer transferees to the halls of Benedictine High School. Other than my grade school friends attending ‘Benny', Jim was one of my first new friends there and I was on of his first friends there too. Like me, he was Irish-American. With his red hair, he resembled others in my family, brother Rodger and sisters Mary Jo and Jean.

After graduation, we saw each other on occasion and telephoned to stay in touch. Not long afterwards, he enlisted in the Marine Corps and I went into the Army. Once we were both home on leave at the same time but missed seeing each other. Instead, he chose to visit his sister in Cincinnati, Julie, who is Sister Julienne, a religious Sister.

During our service years, we continued to communicate. His letters followed me to Fort Hood in central Texas, the barren desert of the great Mojave that spanned New Mexico, California and Arizona, to the field near Berlin, Germany. My letters followed Jim to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba and Okinawa. In the autumn of 1965, his letters bore a new postmark - Vietnam.

Jim was happy that I had somehow missed being sent there and asked how I had "skated this mess." There was more than just a hint of frustration in the tone of the letters. The enemy was elusive; "you can't tell the cowboys from the Indians," he said, a reference to old American movies in which most cowboys we were portrayed as good people, and most Indians as bad people.

On December 9th and 10th, 1965, about 5 clicks northeast of Que Son (Khe San), F Co., 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines and E. Co., 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines, lost eighteen of their own in an engagement with North Vietnamese Regulars. One of them, who we remember today, was a Brooklyn native and graduate of St. Thomas More Catholic Grade School. He became the first Clevelander killed in Vietnam.

Casualties of many wars were buried where they fell, or in graves in neighboring states or countries. I have prayed over some in American Military Cemeteries - outside Hamm, Luxembourg, where George Patton is rests with troops who fell during World War Two’s Battle of the Bulge. Also at Gettysburg, Antietam, Arlington and Calvary. Jim, however, was returned home.

Friends gathered at Chambers Funeral Home on Rocky River Drive to comfort his family and mourn our loss. Corporal Milton Fredrickson, stationed in San Francisco, accompanied the casket home to Cleveland. In his marine Dress Blue uniform, he stood ramrod straight next to flag-draped, closed casket. On his breast was a Purple Heart medal, awarded for wounds he had received in Vietnam.

December 31, 1965 dawned in typical Cleveland winter fashion - extremely cold with a gusty wind blowing off Lake Erie. After a Requiem Mass at St. Thomas More Church, over one hundred cars drove to Calvary Cemetery on the East Side. A Marine firing squad commanded by Staff Sergeant Louis Minter saluted their fallen comrade with a rifle volley that startled most of those present. It was followed by the haunting reverie of Taps, from a hidden bugler, then-14 year old James Ginley. Corporal Frederick son presented Corporal Brock's mother with a tri-folded US flag, "on behalf of a grateful nation." Clutching the flag, she threw herself over the gray casket and sobbed, "Oh, Jimmy." My heart was wrenched from my chest; I tasted the salt of my own tears.

I later heard Jim's younger brother, John, joined the Marine Corps, probably to avenge his brother's death. Surprisingly, he, too, was sent to Vietnam. Knowing of Jim's sacrifice, however, they kept him in Saigon. I'm surprised he got that far.

In 2006, Marine Corps veteran Corporal D.G. Marso wrote, “Jim was a wonderful friend and a great Marine. He was like a Big Brother to younger Marines in K Co, 3rd Bn, 2nd Marines, 1963-64. We wish we could have been there for you Jim.
Semper Fi, Brother. Cpl. D. G. Marso 1990351

Some things remain fresh as if they happened yesterday. Today, it is hard for me to believe it is the year 2008; all that seems so very recent. Maybe it is supposed to be that way - to remind us that forty-three years is not a long time after all in the loop that is life.

Visit his final resting place at home in Cleveland at Calvary Cemetery or at panel 4E6 on Washington’s Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Say a prayer not only for the repose of Corporal Brock’s soul but those of the other 58,195 names listed there. And hate war, not the warrior.

On that last day of 1965, it was still early in a war that would eventually claim so many more American and Allied lives. I now realize that most of us in Cleveland were in shock over Jim's death. And, in keeping with Irish warrior tradition, there should have been a piper at Calvary Cemetery that day.

On a recent Veterans’ Day, I returned to that gravesite for the first time since. With me were representatives from the Marine Corps League, American Legion, Polish Legion of American Veterans and the Cleveland Police and Fire Departments. And, this time, there was a piper.


An earlier version of this story titled The Day the Letters Stopped originally appeared in the Cleveland Plain Dealer in 1995.

Irish Rebellion of 1798 - a book review

Irish-America has been described as a Diaspora without real connections to the mother country. 99% of Americans who claim Irish heritage only know this because of oral tradition. Some say this is enough but others, in increasing numbers, are possessed with a quest for historical knowledge of their families and the events that caused them to emigrate. And they're finding out that Irish history has not been what they've been led to believe. In the process they are discovering they are more Irish than they knew.

A loosening of Anglo and official interpretation bonds has been accomplished with the emergence of the once-forbidden written and spoken word of Irish nationalist leaders such as Gerry Adams. This emergence has unleashed a passion for knowledge and awareness. The Irish rising of 1798 is no exception.

Long neglected by the nation of Ireland herself, it has been Irish America that has shed proper light on the incredibly violent events and subsequent inhuman treatment of the vanquished by the victors. With the incredible rise of interest in the event, a book has re-emerged that sheds first-hand knowledge of both events and attitudes of the period.

Last published in 1802, Steven W. Myers & Delores E. McKnight have edited the memoirs of Sir Richard Musgrave, a loyalist . It is resplendent with vivid eyewitness accounts, lists of massacre victims and rebel and loyalist participants. /they have included a new index with 10,600 references to people and places, especially for the south Leinster area of Wexford, Wicklow, Carlow, Kildare and Dublin, for the east Ulster area of Armagh, Antrim and Down, and for the Mayo region.

A historical treatise, the scholarship of the editors lays out the background of the political/moral/social interworkings of the time.