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Issue 9.5 of the Review for Religious, 1950. ; A.M.D.G. Review for Religious °~Venial Sin r o P. De LeHer Sensitiveness . Winfrld He;bst On Family Spirit . . ¯ . Gerald Kelly Christ on W)nnincj Friends . Jerome Breunlg ~uestions and Answers Book Reviews Report to Rome VOLUME IX NUMBER RI::VII:::W FOR RI::LIGIOUS VOLUME IX SEPTEMBER, 1950 NUMBER 5 CONTENTS VENIAL SIN--P. De Letter, S.J . ¯ . 225 SENSITIVENESS---Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S ." . 233 FOR YOUR INFORMATiON-- Suggestions for Superiors General; Vocational Questions; Medlco-Moral Problems; Catholic Dailyi C~nfessors' ~Patron; Sisters of St. Joseph; "Mike"; Reprint Series . ~. 236 ON FAMILY SPIRIT--Gerald Kelly, S.J . 237 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS--Jerome Breunig, S.J: 252 " BOOK REVIEWS-- Our Way to the Father; The History of the Popes; The Holy See at Work; .Little Meditations on the Holy Eucharist . 256 BOOK NOTICES . . , '. . . ' . 261 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 262 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 21. Jubilee Indulgence . , 265 22. Permission for Trips . 265. 23. Authority to Change a Custom . 266 24. What are Norrnae? . 266 25. Collective Nouns Applicable to Sisters . 267 26. Meaning of "the rule." . . 268 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 268 REPORT TO ROME . 269 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ,September, 1950. Vol. IX, No. 5. Published bi-monthly: January, March,May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January" 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.3., Gerald Kelly, S.3. Editorial Secretary: Jerome Breunig, S.J. Copyright, 1950, by Adam C~ Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable lengtb, p~ovided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscript,on price: 2 dollars a~year. Printed in U. S. A. Before writin9 to us, please consult notice on Inside beck cover. Venial Sins " P. De Letter, S.J. \ SPIRITUAL authors commonly teac, h that a sure sign of fervor in a religious is the hab.itual avoiding of venial sins, just as tepidity betrays itself in frequent and lightly-committe, d daily faults. Between these two dispositions which are neatly character-ized in their, extreme types is a nearly indefinite number of degrees. The steady effort of good religious aims at approaching the ideal of fervor, which implies a constant care to exclude from one's daily life whatever is sinful. It is worthwhile to consider this negative aspect of the striving for religious perfection, not because it is more important than the positive practice of virtue, especially of charity tov)ard~ God and neighbor, but because this refraining from all that is evil is easily ascertainable and consequently serves as an unmistakable indication of genuine fervor. Concerning this negative aspect of perfection, two questions may be asked: (1) when exactly do we commit a venial sin? (2) what is normally possible, or not possible, as regards the avoidance of venial sins? The first question aims at outlining clearly the scope of the matter under discussion with a view to cen-tering our attention on the really sinful objects and not on what is mistakenly called sinful. The second purposes to define the bound-ari4s within which our efforts may be successful, thus eliminating the danger of expecting what may well be beyond human powers. 1) When do we commit a venial sin? The question is clear and simple. And so is the answer--in the-ory. But how does it work out in practice? When is a thought or a desire or a word or an action a venial sin and not merely a positive imperfection, that is, something which is less good than its opposite .or than its omission but which is not sinful in itself?1 The question lln holding firmly to a distinction between venial sin and positive imperfection, Father De Letter is following what seems to us to be the more common and the better opinion. For a very fine presentation of the contrary opinion, especially with reference to the teaching of St. Thomas and the Thomistic school, see The Morality of Imperfections, by J. C. Osbourn, O.P. We might add here that even theologians holding the same opinion as Father De Letter might find difficulty in agreeing on a list of examples of either small venial sins or positive imperfections. For instance; one of the examples that Father De Letter later gives of venial sin ("deliberate thoughts or words of vanity which reveal an inordinate self-concern or self-esteem") might also be given as an example of a positive imperfection. 225 .P. DE LETTER Ret~ietu/:or Religious is worth asking because-a different, judgment isto be made of what is sinful and what is riot. We commit a sin whene~'er we knowingly and voluntarily go against the manifest preemptive will of God, that is, when we do or choose what He forbids, or neglect what He commands. The sin is venial only, and not mortal, when either the knowledge or advertence or the voluntariness is imperfect or partial (even though the matter be grave), or when the object of the sinful act itself is light whether of itself, as in a harmless lie, or because of parvity of matter, as in a small theft. Accordingly there is a first category of venial sins which may be called defective or miscarried mortal sins. Though of less practical importance for our present purpose, these must be mentioned briefly. They are the sinful actions (or thoughts, etc.) which ordinarily would be grave sins but happen to be venial sins on account of incomplete advertence or voluntariness. In other words, since they are imperfect as human acts, they are also .imperfect as sins. This may be the case with thoughts or desires against purity which are o.nly half noticed or half consented to; or with words or actions against chhrity when the gravity or harm involved is in good faith neither realized nor intended. Though faults of this kind may evi-dently occur in the life of a religious, they are not the ordinary "daily" sins which we are here .considering. Consequently a mere mention of them suffices. The other class of venial sins consists of those thoughts, desires, words, or deeds which of their nature involve only light guilt. Yet, even these are not subjectively sinful unless they are deliberately willed with the realization that they are sinful. In other words, these three conditions must be fulfilled, even in a venial sin: (a) actual knowledge-~either implicit or explicit, clear or confused--that some-thing is sinful; (b) some degree of voluntariness, at least incom-plete; and (c) an evil object, that is, the thing done is, or is thought to be, contrary to a divine command or prohibition. Whenever any one of these three elements is entirely absent there can be no question of even venial sin (except in so far as a culpable negligence might be at the root of them). According to these requirements, an unnoticed distraction in prayer is not a venial sin (as long as it is unnoticed); nor is an unheeded imagination or thought of self-complacency; nor a reflex reaction to some exterior stimulus, such as a sign of impatience; nor an uncharitable thought or unkind word which, without any fault 226 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS of our own, we fail to perceive. In all these cases the first element required for a venial sin--namely, actual knowledge--is lacl~ing. Similarly, the element of voluntariness is absent, for example, in the case of a harassing distraction in prayer which is noticed but not accepted (that is, sincerely rejected); or in a persistent but resisted unkind thought; or in an uncharitable remark that escaped before we could control ourselves. Finally, no positive command of God is disregarded by the omission of an exercise of devotion which is not obligatory; or by not choosing a more perfect andmore difficult way of performing one's duty; or by contenting oneself with what is good without preferring the better; or by recreating well and taking natural relaxation with less supernatural motives; or by talking during times of silence without necessity though not without some usefulness. All these actions .are in themselves good, even though they are less good than other ways of acting. There is not, how-ever, on that score, anything sinful in them. But when thoughts, desires, words, or deeds combine all three elements mentioned: awareness, voluntariness, evil object, they must be called what they are, venial sins. Noticed and accepted distractions in prayer mean irreverence towards the Almighty and consequently are sinful. Thoughts or words against charity which are conscious and voluntary go against the good will we owe all children of God and therefore are sins. The same must be said of a lackof self-control which is voluntary, and of wilful impatience by which we deliberately cause pain to others. Deliberate thoughts or words of vanity which reveal an inordinate self-concern or self-esteem are venial sins because they offend against truth and humility. Thefts of small things, or a lie which is not unjust, a lack of self-control in the matter of food, all these are, supposing some awareness and voluntariness, venial faults because they involve an evil object. Since in all these failings the degree of conscious and free consent may vary, the degree of guilt will also vary accordingly. At times the guilt will be slight, at other times more serious. Often enough it will be difficult for us to determine bow much wilfulness and guilt is involved. But then we may safely leave the estimate to Him who reads the hearts of men. All this teaching of the spiritual authors and moralists looks elementary enough, and so it is. Yet it might be good to stress this one particular point: when in our own daily lives we find defective ways of thinking, speaking, or acting which totally lack any one of 227 P. DE LETTER Ret;iew ~'or Retigious the three conditions of venial sinfulness, we may truthfully and peacefully consider that they are not sins--unless, perhaps, there be some more.or less guilty negligence in their root cause. Consequently, we need not confess them nor endeavor to be sorry for them though we can rightly be sorry for the previous negligence which may be the cause of them. They may well be humbling and unpleasant defects which serve to mortify us. But before God and in our conscience they do not harm us spiritually. No one will doubt all this. Yet it not infrequently happens (as personal experience amply proves) that although we realize full well what we should do from a theoretical point of view, nevertheless, in pr.actice, we are unable to act accord-ingly. If the aforementioned defects are not sinful, there is no humil-ity or sanctity in speaking or acting as if they were. (This does not mean, of course, that there can be no true humility in acknowledging our negligence which is the cause of them.) If they are not evil they do not give rise to th~ spiritually harmful effects which are inherent in venial sins. More particularly, they do not cool the fervor of our charity towards God and neighbor, nor do they prepare the way for serious lapses. Whatever evil is in them lies in their root cause only. Shall we conclude that we need not concern ourselves about them at all? This conclusion would not be fully warrantdd and would not harmonize with the fundamental endeavor of religious life which aims at more than the avoidance of sin. It is right to conclude that we need not see sins where sins do not exist. We should, however, be careful about these morally guiltless defects which may well spring from some not guiltless negligence and easily turn us in the direction of sinfulness. Many of the examples quoted above would cease to be sinless as soon as some degree of awareness and wilfulness would enter into them. The care to be taken concerning them evidently does not consist in directly going against them; in most cases that is practically impossible. But they can be eliminated partially by slowly and patiently building up within ourselves strong psycho-logical habits, which incline us in the opposite direction. For example, if we develop a general disposition of kindness and good will, we slowly create in ourselves a "second nature" that will by itself prevent many an unkind thought or word. As to actual practice, must we believe that it is relatively easy for religious to commit venial sins? At times we are led to believe that we could hardly live an hour or fulfill our ordinary daily duties without committing some venial sin or other. Every idle word, every vain thought, every complacency in success seems to be sinful to 228 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS some extent. May we hope that this fear or opinion is somewhat exaggerated ? Different temperaments and different views may incline different people either to severity or to leniency. But no one will deny the principle which both the severe and the lenient must respect: that the degree of free consent to a forbidden object (which in the case of venial sins is something not grievously evil) constitutes the measure of guilt. Without voluntariness there is no guilt and no sin. The divergencies of opinion will, then, stem from the different estimates as to how much freedom of consent is involved in our defective actions. 2) What is normallv possible, or not possible, in avoiding venial sins? This question may seem somewhat surprising. But it is impor-tant that we ask it and find an answer to it if our endeavor to exclude venial sins from our lives is to be enlightened and effective. It would be useless and harmful in the long run to strive after what is impos-sible. SOoner or later such a course of action would inevitably lead to discouragement in the face of repeated apparent failures. So, too, it would be prejudicial to our spiritual progress if we mistakenly did not try to do what is feasible. In this matter we are not left to personal conjectures and reason-ings or to the teachings of private authors. The Church.has given bet own authoritative and even infallible teaching. Four centuries ago the Council of Trent defined against the Protestants that a man in the state of grace is unable "during the whole of his life to avoid all sins, even those that are venial, except by a special privilege from God such as the Church holds in regard to the Blessed Virgin." And when explaining bow venial sins of their nature do not destroy the state of sanctifying grace the same Council conceded that "during this mortal life men, however holy and just, fall at times into at least light and daily sins which are also called venial." This is a most precious hint which must preserve our endeavor both from presump-tion and from dejection. It clearly states what we'must not expect, and what, therefore need not surprise or disappoint us. We cannot hope to exclude from our whole lives all venial sins; we shall not succeed, however saintly or advanced in the spiritual life we may be. Unless we can count on a special privilege such as our Blessed Lady had received we should be trying and promising ourselves the impos-sible. And who would claim for himself this privileged treatment 229 P. DE LETTER Reoieto /:or Religious which is altogether exceptional (the Council of Trent mentions only one.exception, the Blessed Virgin) ? We need not, therefore, be aston-ished or disheartened if, in spite of our best efforts and after long fidelity to the inspirations of grace, we still at times fall into light or daily faults. This is the common lot, the Church says, of the saints. We surely do not expect to be better than the saints, nor shall we be disappointed when we come to know from experience that we are not. But lest some one might find in this doctrine of the impossi-bility of avoiding all venial sin a pretext for taking things easily, the Church has carefully weighed her words. She has infallibly defined only this: It is not possible without a special privilege to avoid all venial sins during an entire lifetime. Whatever is less than this no longer comes within her infallible teaching. Strictly speaking, therefore, it may be true that some saints, even without a special privilege, would commit, say, only two or three venial sins during their whole lives. Even then the Church's definition would remain intact. But this interpretation obviously minimizes her teaching. Her mind is clearly different. She grants that even saints sometimes fall into light sins. How often, she does not say. But she definitely seems to say, from time to time. And it would follow logically that this frequency will vary according to the degre~ of virtue or sanctity or moral strength which a saint has reached. The Church's. teaching, therefore, cannot offer any pretext for an easy-going life. But it is a valuable safeguard against presumption or discouragement. It pre-serves us from attempting the impossible. But the impossible is a distant limit to which we can always approach nearer and nearer, for we can almost indefinitely reduce the number of our small sins. In this connection we should recall the twofold division of venial sins commonly given by spiritual writers: first, the fully voluntary or deliberate venial sins which one commits calmly and with unham-pered freedom, precisely because they are onltj venial and nothing serious; secondly, the venial sins of weakness in which the volun-tariness is only partial and diminished by surprise, or inattention, or fatigue, or listlessness, or some other reason, but in which there still is a sufficient degree of advertence and free consent to make them guilty and to make us responsible for them. This difference in venial sins is well known from experience; each one can no doubt trace it in his own life. Now. it is clear enough that we are able with God's grace to exclude from our daily lives the first category of venial_sins. We can 230 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS make up our minds and be determined not deliberately to commit any venial sins. Since these are fully deliberate, it depends on our free wills alone to commit or not to commit them. From the very nature of the case, we are not here taken by surprise. If we were, there would no longer be question of fully deliberate faults. And our free will cannot be t:orced into a completely free consent; it is we ourselves who decide. Many theologians, it is true, declare that Christians do not in fact avoid all deliberate venial sins during a whole lifetime with the ordinary graces they receive. Because of our innate weakness we some time or other lose sight of the determina-tion not to sin venially. Yet, with growing fidelity to grace and growing abundance of graces these faults can, in those approaching to perfection and sanctity, be eliminated altogether from their daily lives. Accordingly, it is not this class of venial sins which the Church mainly had in mind when she declared tb~t it is impossible for a just man to avoid them entirely during his ~ hole life. What Trent infallibly declared pertains to the second kind of venial sins, which are not fully deliberate. Even saints cannot with-out a special privilege avoid all such sins of weakness. Will this sur-prise any one? Catholics who believe in the fall of m~n and in original sin with its moral consequences on our human nature and on its efforts for good, will expect this. Our weak human nature would require, in order never to be taken by surprise by attractive and pleasing but forbidden objects, a vigilance and self-control so con-stant and so uninterrupted that ir is normally beyond our human strength. Much, of course, depends on the environment in which we live and on the virtuous habits and moral strength we have acquired. Where little or no occasion or temptation arises it is not hard to maintain the degree of watchfulness which bars complete surprise. And for the advanced in virtue and the strong of character, for the humble and the recollected, the charitable and the pure, invitations to sin will be fewer and less attractive. Even they, however, will " have their moments of weakness when they are caught off: guard and when they ball-knowingly, half-willingly do, say, desire, or think what they should not. We cannot expect that this kind of venial sins will ever be fully banned from our lives. We can never feel entirely safe and secure against their attacks. All we can do, and all we oug~hot to do, is by indirect action to try to diminish their number and to decrease the measure of wilfulness and.guilt in them. This effort can and should advance on a nearly indefinite scale leading us always closer and closer to the limit pointed out in the Church's 231 19. DE LETTER Review For Religious teaching. And this goal is our best endeavor. Venial sins, even the semi-deliberate ones, do spiritual harm in many ways. The harm decreaseswith the decreasing guil't, but it remains proportioned to the guilt. From all this it f611ows that a twofold result can be achieved by all of us in the matter of avoiding venial sins. First, we can with the help of grace that is always at our disposal, bann from our lives all fully deliberate venial sins. Secondly, we are able, with the help of the same grace, notably to diminish the number and the guilt of the half-deliberate ones. As regards the avoidance of fully deliberate venial sins, nothing more need be said. The thing has only to be done. But to avoid the semi-deliberate sins, we must concentrate on indirect tactics. We can increase our watchfulness against surprise attacks and make sure that this watchfulness does not relax to the point of dangerous neglect. We can counterac' the causes of unguardedness. And that practically means to grow in virtue and moral strength; for strong virtue can counterbalance the weakness of human nature which is the root cause of our being caught unawares. This indirect action against venial sins is to be applied according to each one's special needs. Each one has to develop those virtues and that moral fortitude which go against the kinds of venial sin to which he is ordinarily tempted. Some insist on charity because they easily fail in that line; they ought to cultivate a general disposition of kindliness in thought, word, and deed; both in prayer and outside of prayer they can thus build up a habit which will be a permanent counterweight against hasty and almost reflex unkind actions. Others are prone to thoughtless and selfish words and actions which are prompted by a natural urge to self-seeking 'and self-assertion: they should develop recollected self-control with the natural means of peacefulness and will power and the supernatural aids of a living' spirit of faith, a sincere and exclusive desire of what God wants, and a spiritual depreciation of all that concerns self only. These examples indicate what is meant by in-direct action against half-deliberate venial sins. The idea is to coun-teract the roots of weakness and inattention from which these faults normally spring. It is possible to paralyze these causes of sins in an ever-increasing measure.' The more we grow in virtue and holiness, the less become our faults in number and guilt. Religious approach this ideal of purity of heart in the measure of their fervor. And their advance in the spiritual life also depends proportionately on the purity of their lives. It is, therefore, impera- 232 September, 1950 SENSITIVENESS tive to know and to do what can be done .with. regard to our daily faults. The more generous and sincere our endeavor in this regard, the more truly shall we be what the religious profession demands of its followers: .giving our best endeavor to acquire the perfection of the Christian life. SensiEiveness Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S. THyoAuT t hwea ost ha'e rv edrayy c. aInt dseide msesl ft-hreavt ealsa tai orne lwighioicuhs Iy ¯oruec weiavnetd t ofr obme as open as one can prudently be, as ~lear as water in a crystal vase. You tell me that you have marked down sensitiveness, ~/our inor-dinate sensitiveness, as your very character itself, .and that you have made resolutions accordingly. Humility in all its forms was, and is to be, your weapon,against this fault of character. You tell me that your sensitiveness is the direct offspring of pride and self-love, and that already¯ some years ago you recognized it as .the great enemy against which you must fight unceasingly. 7y'ou believe that you have made just a little headway against it but that much still remains to be done. Very frankly you tell me that your sensitiveness injures you somewhat as follows. Following a reproof, a censure, an admoni-tion, sometimes even the slightest, you become intensely excited interiorly; you feel bitter and hard. Then come unkind thoughts, bitter reflections, inconsiderate criticism, plans to drop or change reso-lutions, temptations against your vocation, discouragement. You state that absolute silence is your only safety then; for were you to speak you would become violent and say things which you would certainly regret, but which, because of your pride,, you might never retract, to your great spiritual danger. Often you are thrown into this state by a single look of disapproval or by something which is done by an individual or by the community that is not to your liking. You add that a strange phase of your sensitiveness is that it is often aroused even by things which are not intended as offensive. This being so, something must be done. And you ask me to tell you what. 233 WINFRID HERBST Review ~or Religious I do veril~r believe that you cannot get rid of your sensitiveness as such, as a natural quality. But in your striving after religious perfection you certainly can keep it down; you can direct it into the proper channels. You can be sensitive about your Heavenly Father's business. To say, "I will not let my pride get the upper hand in the future," would be a useless resolution. What you must do is con-vince yourself that there is nothing in you or about you in which you may of yourself glory and boast. In other words, as you your-self s~uggest, you must acquire humility; and since the best way to acquire it is to practice it, you must let no day pass without seeking occasions to do so and you must from time to time make it the sub-ject of your particular examen according to Rodriguez. But I would have you remember that humility is in every way compatible with manliness, courage, 'resolution, magnanimity, a longing to do great things, a will to win. With St. Paul you may say, "I can do all things." But you must not fail to add in all sin-cerity and humility, "In Him who strengthens me." Humility is truth; and this assertion of St. Paul's is always true. In the proper discharge of your duties you must have a certain confidence; in your studies you need a certain ambition. But all things must be with God and for God, not for self and for men. And, of course, this confidence, courage, and resolution should not show itself in self-praise. How can you boast of that which you have not of yourself, of that which has been given you? You have in a special manner received everything from God: your wonderful vocation, your remarkably good health, your mod-erate endowments, your love of order and exactness, your zeal in religious observance. You simply need confidence and resolution. Cultivate it, then, especially interiorly. I would really like to impress it upon you very earnestly that you may and must have con-fidence in yourself, provided always that self is wholly and humbly lost in God and leaning upon Him, upon Him in whom you can do all things. Confidence in yourself--yes; but at the same time be deeply im-bued with the conviction of your own nothingness. Be persuaded that it is vain and ridiculous to wish to be esteemed because of certain endowments received as a loan from God. Practice acts of meekness, patience, obedience, mortification, sor-row for sin, the renunciation of your own feelings and opinions, and the like. 234 September, 1950 SENSITIVENESS If no attention is paid to you, show no resentment but bear it with resignation and tranquillity. Do not condemn the" actions of others, interpret everything charitably, and, if the fault be manifest, strive" to attenuate it as much as possible. .And forget about it, unless your office obliges you to apply a remedy. In open questions do not contradict anyone in conversation; do not get overexcited in arffuing: if your opin, ion be considered of little worth give way quietly and remain silent. When you must defend the truth, do so courageously, but without being violent or. contemptuous. Lay up a good store of gentleness so that in all circumstances you may ~etain your equanimity. Do not nourish in your heart feelings of dislike and revenge against those who offend you. If anyone blames you or speaks ill of you, do not fly into a pas-sion bu't examine your shortcomings and humbly thank God for preserving you from such things. Whenever you are in.clined to be impatient or downcast, fight against such a temptation courageously, being mindful of your sins and of the fact that you deserve greater chastisements from God. If you .commit a fault and are despised for it, be sorry for the fault before God and accept the dishonor incurred 'as an expiation for it. Yes, I think you should concentrate on the practice of humility. Humility is a fundamental virtue, a sure pledge of sanctity, a token of predestination. A most important lesson taught us by the Divine Savior is this: "Learn of Me, because I am meek and humble of heart." In order to practice humility, be convinced that of' yourself you have nothing but sin, weakness, and misery; that all the gifts of nature and of grace which you enjoy you have received from God, who is the principle of your being; and that to Him alone is due all honor and glory---ornnis honor et gloria. But, you may exclaim, the program you outline is simply heroic. I'm glad you feel that way about it. A proper spirit of humility makes you realize that it will be difficult to live according to the out-line given and that you will be subject to many failures. But that should not prevent you from trying or cause you to give up once you have tried. Recently a religious wrote to me with reference to an article'that I had published on rel!gious observance: "I feel that I have you for a 235 WINFRID HERBST friend because of the barbs contained in your article on religious observance. Try as I might to rid myself of those timely printed remarks, I kept coming back and rereading the same. Ashamed is the right word, indeed. Yellow or coward would be the right word too. Why? I kept asking myself. After having to admit the truth the answer seemed to be: not wanting to be considered a goody-goody and not being concerned about being a perfect religious." To which I replied: "It is a good sign, this dissatisfaction with self. I am not worried about you, so long as you accept your short-comings without discouragement and try to profit by them. It is a sign of growth in humility." For Your Information Suggesfion for Superiors General The first annual report covering the year 1950 must be made by all religious superiors general (even by superiors of independent monasteries and houses) on the forms issued by the Sacred Congre-gation of Religious, not later than the end of March, 1951. During that same year all superiors general of lay institutes (Brothers and Sisters) in both Americas must send in the quinquennial report for the years 1946-1950. A new questionnaire has been published for this report. The English text of the questionnaire (342 questions) costs $1. The ten forms for the annual report including an explana-tory letter by,'the Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Re-ligious cost fifty cents. These forms and the English questionnaire should be ordered now. Send a bank check or an international postal money order (obtainable at any post office), for $1.50 made out in favor of Sacred Congregation of Religious to: Rev. Giulio Mandelli, Archivist, S. Congregation of Religious, Palazzo San Callisto, Rome, Italy. Be sure to register your letter at your postoffice to avoid losing it in the mails. We hope to publish some practical suggestions regarding the filling out of the annual report in the November issue; on the quin-quennial report in the January issue. gocaflonal Ouesflons An interesting and practical pamphlet is One Hundred Vocational (Continued on page 251) 236 On F: mily Spirit: Gerald Kelly, S.3. ~T IS TRADITIONAL usage in the Church to refer to a religious institute or community as "a religious family." This expression is rich in meaning; and all of us can profit by occasionally reflecting on it. The present article is designe~l to provide a stimulus for such reflections; it is by no means calculated to do full justice to the possibilities. . Leaving the Old In itself, the expression, "a religious family," has a positive meaning. It signifies that the religious community is a family in its own right with the duties and privileges that belong to real family life. But this positive element presupposes something negative: a break with one's natural family. Without separation from the old there can never be complete incorporation into the new. Logically, therefore, our reflections ought first to be directed towards this negative element, separation. It is well to note at the outset that separation from parents and relatives is not easy. It is very difficult indeed. Nevertheless, it is a mistake for religious to think that only they are called upon to make this sacrifice. As a matter of fact, even children who marry must effect the same separation if their married life is to be a success. All the best psychological studies of failures in marriage stress the fact that one of the principal causes is the fact that one or both parties remain "tied to their mother's apron strings." The truth of this research merely illustrates the inspired words of Genesis (2:24): "Wherefore, a man shall leave father and mother and shall cleave to his wife." Married people must realize that they are starting a new family, and that they must break definitely with the old. The same is true of religious. In this matter of separation we have both the example and the words of Our Lord to show us the way. When He was twelve He permitted the hearts of those He loved most dearly to be filled with anguish because He must be about His Father's business. Years later He parted definitely with the finest of mothers and the best of com-panions in order to give Himself to three tireless years of His Father's business and to climax it all with His crucifixion. And He confirmed 237 GERALD KELLY this example by strong words about the need of separation. In Matthew (10:37) we read: "He the( loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." And in Luke (14:26) are the even stronger words: "If any man come to me and hate not his father and mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." It is obvious that, despite the force of His words, Our Lord is not telling us that we must tear the love of parents and relatives out of our hearts. His own love for His Mother was deep, intense, and tender; and it remained so all His life. Yet it would have been an imperfect thing, and unworthy of Him, had it urged Him to stay with her one moment longer than the divine plan permitted, or had it been allowed in any way to interfere with His apostolate. This is the model of our own affection for parents and relatives. We are supposed to love them. We are bound to them by ties of blood and gratitude. But the love must be well ordered. It must not interfere, even slightly, with the purpose of our religious life, for to achieve that purpose is our Father's business. From the beginning of our r~ligious life we have to set ourselves resolutely to accomplish the physicai and mental separation from parents and relatives that allows us to give ourselves quietly and wholeheartedly to our religious duties. And one of the first and most important lessons we must learn is to entrust our dear ones to Divine Providence. It often happens that a religious has hardly entered the novitiate when he begins to receive distressing news from home. Father has lost his job; mother needs a serious operation; a baby niece has diphtheria; a nephew was in a terrible accident; the black sheep of the family has got .into some new trouble. News of this kind will be more or less frequent all through our religious lives. Unless we adjust ourselves properly to it, it can be the source of constant anxiety that spoils our mental prayer, diminishes the efficiency of our work, and even tempts us to abandon our religious vocation. Of course, it isn't easy to rid oneself of such anxiety. We cannot just.say, "I won't be anxious," and thus put all the worrisome thoughts to rout. But in a positive way we can cultivate the attitude that in leaving parents and relatives, we are putting them into the hands of God, and that if we give our thc~ughts to God and our own vocation, God'will take care of our dear ones. After all, we are not the only ones who need a great trust in Divine Providence. Letter-writing is another test of w.ell-ordered love of parents and 238 8eptembec, 1950 ON I~AMIL~ SPIRIT relatives. It is one thing for a young religious to write home every day; another to write so seldom that parents can justly complain of neglect. It is one thing to write pages and pages of small talk: another to write, "Dear Morn: I'm fine; hope you're the same. Love." These examples are extremes; but not entirely fictional. It is well for religious to cultivate the habit of writing home at regular intervals and to keep that habit as long as ~heir parents are living. The letters need not be long, but they should not be too short, either. A letter is neither a book nor a telegram. We should try to make our letters interesting, without at the same time revealing details that should be kept within the privacy of our community or of telling things that might cause needless worry. There are some mothers who, if they heard their beloved daughter had a sore knee, would immediately think in terms of an amputation. We learn through experience that innocent remarks in letters can easily assume explosive proportions. When I was a young religious I went to the hospital" for a check-up that was little more than routine. I mentioned this fact casually in a letter to a devoted aunt. Three weeks later my superior called me to his room. In his hand was a telegram from the same devoted aunt. She had just heard that her nephew had only a short time to live and she wondered whether she should come at once. That was the first news I had of my desperate condition. Upon investigation, I found that my aunt had told a friend of my check-up, and this friend had told another friend, and so on; and as the news passed from friend to friend my condi-tion grew steadily worse. Finally the original news, transformed by the ghastly details of my incurability, got back to my aunt. Then there are visits. Some time ago I presided at a discussion group made up of mistresses of novices and postulants of various institutes. One of the points discussed concerned the visits to pos-tulants and novices b.y parents and relatives. The customs varied greatly. One of the institutes simply has the absolute custom: no visits till first vows--and this institute has.a two-year novitiate. I am not exaggerating when I say that all the other novice-and postulant-mistresses gasped with envy when they heard this. All agreed that, hard though it seemed, this would be the ideal arrange-ment. All complained that when visits are allowed the day after the visit is like beginning the postulancy or novitiate over again. Some may disagree with me, but I think the religious who is stationed far from home is blest. This is true of monastic institutes because it prevents too much visiting from relatives. And it is even 239 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious more true of other institutes, for it not only prgvents the visiting on the part of relatives, but it helps to preserve in the religious himself the perfect interior liberty which keeps him at the free disposition of superiors. They can send him where he is most needed or most useful without fear of opposition. Occasionally there are good reasons for being stationed near one's home; but such reasons are rather rare and are usually of short dura-tion. Yet it is not unknown that some religious are ingenious at conjuring up reasons why they should be stationed in the shadow of their own home. And sometimes the relatives themselves exert pres-sure to this effect. These relatives have no ill will. They simply do not understand the nature of the religious life; and they need to be set right on this point. The religious who wants to be'a perfectly pliable instrument in the hands of God should not leave the burden of explanation to superiors. He ought himself to assume the respon-sibility of pointing out to his relatives that, in entering religion, he placed himself at the disposal of superiors, and that he wants to work where they think he should work. Living the New The preceding points could be amplified and similar ones added. But, since I have undertaken this article with the purpose of stressing the positive aspect of our family life, I wish to devote most of my space to the elements that contribute to genuine family living in religion. ' The first of these positive elements is paternal government. Some-one has said that government is paternal when it manifests the "gentleness, kindliness, and love of Christ." No doubt that expresses the idea most beautifully; yet, unless we translate "paternal" into terms of ordinary family life, we shall remain in the sphere of mere theory. A good father is supposed to be solicitous for each member of his family, while at the same time seeking the common good of the entire family. This is not easily accomplished even in a family of five or six children; it is certainly much more difficult in a religious community of ten, twenty, thirty, and even more subjects. Never-theless the ideal is there; and it cannot be lowered without prejudice to true family life. This ideal clearly rules out favoritism, as that word is ordinarily understood. But it hardly means that a superior cannot have any especially intimate friends within his community. It is commonly 240 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT said that Our Lord had a special regard for St. John; yet no one would dare accuse Him of favoritism. In the best families, parents often have a special love for one child without in any sense neglecting the others. They do not love the others less because they love him more. _And we ourselves, as subjects, often have warm, intimate friendships with a few members of our community without in any way diminishing the charityw'e owe the others. This is human. Supe-riors do not (or should not) cease to be human when they take office. Nevertheless, special friendships present a danger; and superiors, even more than others, must guard, against the danger. Any superior who gives his friends privileges he would not give others, who violates confidences to satisfy their curiosity, who neglects the others Of his community to be with them, who allows them to have undue influence in the managing of the community is certain.ly not governing paternally. Solicitude for the individual must always be subordinated to the interests of the group. All of us, even without having been supe-riors, must have experienced at times the difficulty of living up to this standard. A teacher may have a boy in his class, a thoroughly like-able lad, who is constantly a drawback to the rest of the class in studies and in discipline. Or a prefect may have discovered that a youngster has been stealing or has other bad habits that are infecting the group; and he may be torn between the two unpleasant alterna-tives of having this boy dismissed with the probability that he will not go to another Catholic school or of keeping him in the school with risk of great harm to the others. In problems such as these the ultimate solution must be in terms of the greater good-~and that is usually the common good. We should do all we can to save the individual boy, but not at the expense of the group. And the supe-rior has to solve the similar problems that arise in community life in the same way. He will show great sympathy and tolerance for the wayward or cantankerous subject. But this tolerance has its just limit. The community has a right to its good name and to peaceful living; and its right should not be jeopardized for the individual. A good father likes to be with his family. Every institute, I suppose, prescribes that the superior be present at community meals and community recreations and that he stay home most of the time. This is not merely for the sake of discipline: it is a requisite for good family life. I might suggest, though, that the expression "most of the time" be emphasized. A wise old Father once remarked that a good superior will make it a point to get away from his community 241 GERALD KELLY Ret~iew for Reliqious occasionally. It is good for both the superior and the community. It is clearly a case in which "absence makes the heart grow fonder." And this is also true of ordinary family life. When parents get away occasionally both they and the children benefit by it. When we look back on our childhood, one of the things that very likely strikes us forcibly is the memory of how our parents adjusted themselves to us. When with us they lived in our world, the child's world; and they did not try to force us into theirs. I think that this fact helps to illustrate the full meaning of paternal government in religion. The good superior seeks the interests of his community; he lives in their world, not his own. For instance, he does not monopolize recreation with his own topics of conversation. Or, to put the same example in another way: he does not recreate the brethren; he recreates with the brethren. Paternal government neces- ¯ sarily implies that the superior look upon the members of his com-munity as his children. This is obvious; the correlative of "parent" is "child." But "child" in this context means "son or daughter"; it does not mean an infant or even an adolescent. The paternal supe-rior, therefore, treats his subjects as adults. He has respect for their age, their dignity, and their talents. Many other things could be said about the paternal superior. He can be stern; he is never harsh. He fosters religious idealism by his good example. He is a good provider in accordance with the means at his disposal and the purpose of his institute. He makes sure that his subjects have plenty of time to see him. He tries to employ them according to their strength and their talents. He encourages them to develop their talents for the good of the institute and ultimately for the greater glory of God. And so forth. I cannot develop these points without converting this into an article entitled, "How to be a good superior"-~by one who has ne~er been a superior. The next topic concerns us, the subjects. On the basis of experi-ence, I.should know much more about this. However, it is~rather human to know 'more about the other fellow's job. A friend of mine who was appointed a superior several years ago made a very appro-priate speech on the night of his installation. "A week ago," he said, "I knew everything a superior ought to do. Tonight I'm not so sure." In terms of the religious family, the correlative of paternal gov-ernment is filial confidence. This expression is not easily explained. It seems to signify something that we recognize almost instinctively --like the taste of chocolate--yet are only faintly able to describe. 242 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT fundamental element seems to be confidence in the superior's judg-ment. And by this I am riot.referring to the fact that he is in the place of Christ. That tells me merely that I am right in obeying him: it does not tell me he is right in commanding. Religious life would be nothing short of a continuous miracle if all of us lived it day after day and year after year With the conviction that the supe-rior is wrong, but we are right. For ordinary peaceful living we need the confidence that at least generally speaking the superiors are right, that they govern well, that their natural judgment is good. We needn't endow superiors with either infallibility or impeccability in order to gain this confidence. If we may judge from the content of several anonymous letters sent to this review, some religious think that the first requisite for becoming and remaining a superior is stupidity. The attitude of such religious is not readily diagnosed. Perhaps the cause is indigestion, or sleeplessness, or some mental maladjustment. At any rate, it is certainly pathological. And we can all thank God for that: for, if that attitude represented the normal outlook of religious subjects, we should be in a sorry state. I am not saying there are no bad superiors--no unrealists, no martinets, no tyrants amongst them. But I do say most emphatically that there are enough good ones for us to preserve our confidence in the institution, even on a natural basis. And I believe that in saying this I am expressing the view of the general run of religious subjects. As a group we have a basic confidence that our superiors govern well. This does not mean that we do not occasionally, or even frequently, think we could plan things better. Nor does it mean that we never criticize. Most of us, no doubt, indulge in enough criticism of supe-riors to provide matter for a periodic particular examen, for confes-sion, and for good resolutions. We can and we should improve. Nevertheless, some criticism, provided it is not too frequent and especially that it is not bitter, is no major impediment to family life. In considering the paternal-filial relationship, reference, to the manifestation of conscience is inevitable. As has been remarked more than once in these pages, the fact that the Church has forbidden supe-riors to demand a manifestation'of conscience has been stressed to such an extent as to lead many religious to think that their conscience is simply none of the superior's business. The very nature of reli-gious .government shows this to be absurd. Superiors are supposed to assign subjects to places and offices in such a way that the individ-uals can save and sanctify their souls and that the general good of the 243 GERALD KELLY Reoieto t~or Religious institute is promoted. An assignment which defeats either of these ends defeats the purpose of the religious life itself. Yet, how is a superior to make a wise and provident disposition of subjects according to the two-fold purpose of the religious life unless he has an intimate knowledge of his subjects? And how is he to get this knowledge adequately without the help of perfect candor on the part of the subjects? It is very saddening to hear a religious whose assignment is actually proving his spiritual ruin, say: "I just couldn't tell my superior about this difficulty." The fault may be his; and it may be his superior's: in either case, the condition is lamentable and should never have been allowed to develop. Perhaps both superiors and subjects could profit by reflecting on the fol-lowing words of a saintly and experienced spiritual director: "Nothing helps so effectually to engender a paternal attitude toward a subject as the account of conscience; for, when I open my heart to my superior I constrain him to take a fatherly attitude toward me and a fatherly interest in my welfare. Thereafter he cannot remain just my superior if he be a man of normal humanity. Then, this bestowal of my inmost confidence upon my superior will be powerful to effect in my soul the reciprocal relation of filial trust and love. Conversely, when I withhold my confidence from the superior and refuse to open my heart to him, I make his position diffi-cult as far as fatherly feeling is concerned. Sometimes our superiors may seem to us to lack paternal interest. The fault may be theirs; but likewise it may be ours, due to the fact that we have never given them our confidence." Paternal government and filial confidence are the constituent ele-ments of family life in the superior-subject relationship. The third element is the bond of union among the members. ,~,11 that we gen-erally say concerning fraternal charity pertains to the explanation of this element. I shall content myself here with pointing out a few things that seem to have special relevance to our "family" charity. In our mutual relationships there ought to be no quarreling, no offensive teasing, no harsh words. This certainly is the ideal of our charity. Yet, ~i wholesome family spirit can exist among us without perfection in this ideal. Consider again the analogy with the good natural family. The brothers and sisters squabble a bit; the parents lose their tempers occasionally. But they "make up fast"--as the saying goes; a short time after the explosive incidents everyone is acting as if nothing disagreeable had happened. To strive for this is perhaps to have a more realistic goal in our community relationships. 244 ON FAMILY SPIRIT Despite the noblest of resolutions, we get out of sorts, and we fly off the handle. Given a group of normal human beings, these things can hardly be avoided entirely in the close associations that make up community living. But we can certainly avoid prolonged teasing that hurts, continued bickering, harboring grudges, and so forth. These are things that deeply wound family spirit. Our goal, therefore, is to love the members of our community in much the same way as the members of a good Catholic family love one another. It is hardly possible to accomplish this perfectly. There is truth in the old maxim that "blood will tell." On the purely natural plane it is often easy to preserve an intense affection for our blood brothers and sisters even when they possess characteristics that o'thers consider unpleasant. In our dealing with others, even with fellow religious, there is much greaterneed of explicitl~r stimulating motives for love. Certainly there are many powerful motives for mutual love among religious. One of these was expressed graphically by a mili-tary chaplain when he returned to his community after the last war: "You don't know how good it is to sit at table again with a group of men who are all in the state of grace!". These are startling words --perhaps even a bit exaggerated. Yet, isn't it true that they express a profound reason why there should be great peace in the companion-ship of religious? Day after day all of us say Mass or receive Holy Communion--a reasonably sure practical sign that we are living habitually in the friendship of God. There are many saintly people outside of religion, and many others who, if not canonizable, do live constantly in the state of grace. But there are many others who are unjust, obscene, blasphemous; and even good people in the World can scarcely avoid their companionship. In religion our lives and our recreations are spent with companions who, despite many small and irritating faults, are substantially good. Their supernatural goodness is not the only reason why the companionship of religious should be enjoyable. Even on the natural level religious are apt to have more likeable qualities than any average group of the laity. At any rate, that ought to be the case; we are screened for especially undesirable qualities when we apply for admission as well as on the occasions of our .vows. It is true that most of us look back and wonder how we passed the screening; and those of us who entered before the days of intelligence and per-sonality tests may frankly admit in the secrecy of our hearts that, if these tests had existed in our day, we should not have made the 245 GERALD KELLY Reuieu~ for Reliqiou~ grade. No doubt, despite all the screening, some serious mistakes are made. Some pass through t~he screening processes who later become real menaces to community life. But the general percentage of com-panionable characters should be and is much higher than would be found elsewhere. I mentioned before that it is not uncommon for children of the same family to fight among themselves. I have seen two small' boys, brothers, literally mauling each other over the possession of a small wagon. Then another boy appeared and attempted to align himself with one party. But the brothers would have none of that! In a flash their own quarrel was ended and they were united against the intruder. This is typical of good family life. No matter how much the members fight among themselves, they present a united front to outsiders. We religious should have that spirit of family loyalty. In some sense, at least, each of us must have looked on his own ¯ institute as the "best of all" when he entered religion; otherwise we would have joined another. Certainly it is the "best" for us now; and it is not only legitimate but laudable for us to foster a spirit of preferential love. I think it was St. Francis de Sales who sa'id: "For us there is no congregation more worthy of love and more desirable than ours, since Our Lord has willed that it should be our country and our bark of salvation." I have heard that Sisters attending summer school show great interest in the habits of other institutes and that sometimes they exchange habits. But they return to their own with the serene con-viction that, though the others have some good points, theirs is the best. This is not narrow-mindedness. A young man may have the most profound respect for other women yet very reasonably look upon his own mother as the best in the world. So, too, religious may have great esteem for the members, the habits, the customs, and the work of other institutes, yet they prefer and treasure their own above all the others. The well-ordered love of one's institute will not, however, blind us to its deficiencies, or prevent us from trying by legitimate methods to improve its customs. No institute is so perfect as to exclude the need of occasional changes, especially in non-essentials. It is not true loyalty, but sheer obstinacy, that urges us to hold fast to old things just because they are old; that resists any reasonable modi-fication in the habit or any change of customs. Even the general laws of the Church are not so perfect as to exclude change. Family loyalty will not blind us to the defects of our brethren; 246 September, 1950 ON F!kMILY SPIRIT but it will certainly prevent us from criticizing either our brethren or our institute to outsiders. These things are family secrets; outsiders have no right to know them. I am referring here to criticism of one's superiors or fell0w-religious before the boys or girls in school, before the nurses in training, before the p~rish priest, or before the men and women in the parish, and so forth. To reveal to such per-sons the real faults of the community is detraction; and to misrepre-sent the community is calumny. And the harm done by such gossip easily assumes serious proportions. In censuring disloyal speech, I am not thinking of revelations made to canonical visitors or of the unburdening of one's conscience in confession. The canonical visitor is deputed by the Church to ask questions, and in his exercise of this function he is not to be con-sidered an "outsider." The confessor is bound by the most absolute of secrets; and the community is sufficiently protected against harm, even when the religious, in explaining his faults or trials, must inci-dentally refer to the misconduct of others. Further Practical Suggestions I have tried to keep my explanation of the constituents of reli-gious family life from being too theoretical, and I hope I have suc-ceeded to some extent. I should like now to increase the practicality of this article by suggesting a few concrete ways of contributing to the family spirit of our institutes and communities. The purpose of a religious institute is to carry on the work assigned to it by the Church and thus honor God and further His kingdom in the souls of men. In the ordinary providence of God, the supernatural efficiency of the institute depends on its holiness, and this holiness is not some abstract thing; it is, concretely" speaking, the sum total of the holiness of the members. It is very true, there-fore, that each member can say: "The holier I am, the holier is my institute." This truth should be a source of great inspiration and encourage-ment to all religious who are devoted to their religious family. For, in the matter of holiness there is no distinction of grade or work. The general, the provincial, the local superior, the teacher, the nurse, the dean, the housekeeper, the cook, the sick, the retired, the contem-pla. tive, and so forth--all have an equal opportunity of promoting the family cause through an increase of holiness. The saintly cook, therefore, makes a much finer contribution to the most exalted pur-pose of his institute than does the tepid preacher or the worldly 247 GERALD KELLY Review ?or Reliqious teacher. Holiness, of course, includes the whole of one's life--prayer, work, suffering, and so forth--but it refers particularly to the interior life of prayer and penance. In these interior things every religious has great power to help his institute. For one thing, it is the interior spirit that gives the real supernatural value to our own work. Moreover, the interior life of one can have a tremendous influence on the apostolic, work of the others; and it is well for the contemplatives, for those who do the hidden, humble works, and for those who are ill or retired, to note this. This last point is of supreme importance, and I should like to illustrate it by a simple example. A priest seldom goes on'a mission, rarely enters the confessional, without the realization that he may have to de~l with some souls who are "stubborn" or "weak," souls that desperately need superabundant grace for their conversion and salvation. Some of these people seem to have the kind of devil that Our Lord said is driven out only by prayer and fasting. Yet they themselves are too weak or too hard to do the required prayer and fasting. If they are to be saved, someone must do it for them-- at least enough so that they will finally respond to the grace that enables them to carry on for themselves. ~Fhe priest, despite the best of intentions, cannot do it all. On occasions like this, I have always rejoiced in the realization that I have a n~amber of friends who gladly offer some of their pray-ers and sufferings for my apostolate. Shortly after my ordination I was privileged to meet a saintly nun, Sister Agnesetta, of the Sisters of Loretto. We became fast friends, and she was a great help to me until the day of her death. As a young Sister she had been reduced to the state of a helpless cripple. During her last years she could barely lift her tiny knotted hand to blow a whistle when she needed help. Exteriorly she was so cheerful that a casual visitor would think she enjoyed being bedridden. Yet interiorly, for upwards of twenty years she felt not only the physical pain of her illness but the much greater crucifixion of frustration, of "being on the shelf." I cannot express how much it meant to me to begin some apostolic work with the knowlkdge that some of her prayers and sufferings were being offered for me. I have mentioned Sister Agnesetta by name because she has gone to her reward and cannot be embarrassed by my words. I could mention many others and of different institutes, if they were not still living. And I imagine that every priest could do the same. 248 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT What has all this to do with family spirit? The answer, at least as regards active institutes, seems obvious. For in the various active institutes, there are teachers who are trying to win wayward pupils, nurses who are trying to bring about deathbed conversions, preachers who must stir the hearts of the impenitent, confessors who must draw penitents away from habits of sin. These and others exercising the apostolate need supernatural help. And what is more natural than that they look for this help from the members of their own institute? I do not mean that our vision should not take in the whole Church, with its entire apostolate; I simply mean that our own institute should normally have the first place in our apostolic intentions. My remaining suggestions will be very brief. First, there is our work. The work of a religious institute is teamwork; it is not the accomplishment of any individual. Each of us contributes to the cause; and it is only by the complete co-operative effort that the desired result is accomplished. In terms of family spirit, this is another consoling truth. It makes each of us realize that his job is important. Then there is charity. The finest act of charity a religious can show his brethren is good example. All of us know the force of example: how easy it is, for instance, to keep the rule of silence when everyone else observes it; and how difficult it is when even a few neglect it. And, speaking of example, I must at least mention our dealings with externs. They are prone to judge a whole institute by one member: hence each member has a tremendous responsibility to his religious family when he deals with them. The religious with true devotion to his institute will always try to act in the presence of externs in such a way as to cause them to esteem his community and his institute. Also, as regards charity, there is the matter of mutual correction. The very fact that we are a family gives each of us an added respon-sibility for the welfare of the others and, of course, for the reputation of the institute. In a family, when one of the children is making a fool out of himself, the other children tell him or their parents about it; and, observing the sound principles of fraternal correction, we religious have to do the same thing. Sometimes religious note that one of their brethren is on the verge of giving great scandal, yet they say nothing either to the individual or to superiors. This is shirking responsibility, a gross form of family disloyalty. Poverty offers a fertile field for the family spirit. The religious 249 GERALD KELLY Review [or Religious who fully realizes that community life is a sharing enterprise--that "he lives off the community, and the community lives off him," as the saying goes--will not refuse gifts just because he "would have'to turn them in," will not spend his time calculating how he might add some gift to his superfluities without sinning seriously against pov-erty. How would we live if no one were willing to. "turn things in"? And in a natural family, would it not be a strange father or mother or sister or brother who would refuse a generous gift because, "Really, I don't need it for myself; all I could do with it is give it to the family" ? Religious with a family spirit do not waste things. They do not leave it to someone else to turn off a radiator when heat isn't needed, to close a window when it is letting in too much cold air or when a storm is brewing and floors or furniture would be ruined. They do not get books, clothing, and other things that they do not need. In other words, like the members of any poor family, they economize. Perhaps I should add, by way of parenthesis, that when I speak of the need of dconomy, I am thinking mostly in terms of men. I have often wondered how we men could get along on Sisters' salaries, or how we could crowd our books, wardrobes, and various junk boxes into the cells or (more often) dormitories that make up the living quarters of our convents, or how we should look were our clothes subjected to the frequent mendings that give Sisters' habits such a long life on this earth. In my religious life I have heard much about obedience, but after the first few years I seldom heard anything new. A few years ago, however, I did hear a retreat master say something new--at any rate, it was new to me. He said, "The obedient man is the available man." This brief statement expresses in a practical, concrete way the whole secret of religious obedience. Our strength lies in the fact that a supe-rior can dispose of us according to the common need; that he can command us, or ask us, or merely suggest to us, and he always finds us ready. We don't shirk a job; we don't dodge responsibility. Few things can be harder for a superior than to have to approach a sub-ject whex~ he knows his request will be greeted by eithe} a growl or an alibi; and I imagine that few things are sweeter for the superior than the realization that his community is composed of available sub-jects, religious who graciously accept any assignment at any time. One concluding remark. To foster our humility, we are often told that if we were gone our place would soon be filled and the 250 community would not even miss us. Perhaps that aspect of our life is sometimes overdone. Perhaps it is good for us to think occasion-ally of how important we are, of how much we, as individuals, mean to the community. The thought can be very inspiring. I trust that some of the suggestions made here will help to provide this inspi-ration. FOR YOUR INFORMATION (Continued from page 236) Questions Asked bg Sisters. It contains questions and answers first printed in a quarterly entitled Vocational Notes for'Sisters. This reprint contains the first htindred questions which appeared in the Notes during 1949 and 1950. The prudent, informative answers are by the Very Reverend Father Clarence, O.F.M.Cap., and the Rever-end Father Jude, O.F,M.Cap. It can be obtained for 15 cents a copy from: St. Anthony's Vocation Club, 220 Thirty-Seventh St., Pittsburgh 1, Pa. Medlco-Moral Problems Modern medicine faces us with numerous ethical problems. Many of these problems are thoroughly discussed in two booklets, Medico- Moral Problems, I and II, by Gerald Kelly, S.J. The booklets are published by The Catholic Hospital Association, 1438 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 4, Mo. Prices on each booklet are: 50 cents a copy; 12 for $5.25; 50 for $20.00. The Catholic Hospital Association also publishes in pamphlet form Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Hospitals. This is the revised medico-moral code which is now used in a large num-ber of dioceses throughout the United States and Canada. Price: 25 cents a copy: 12 for $2.75; 50 for $10.00. Catholic Daily A group of Catholic journalists are planning to publish a daily newspaper dedicated to reporting the news of the da~r in the context ,6f Christianity. The projected publication date is October 10, 1950. For the staff of this paper, The Sun Herald, the work is a vocation, an apostolate. The founders of the new paper have incorporated as The Apos- (Continued on page 264) 251 Christ: Shows Us I-low !:o Win Friends Jerome Breunig, S.J. SINC, E it was first published about fifteen years ago, Dale Carne-gie s book, How to. Win Friends and Influence People, found millions of buyers and readers and has become one of the most popular works of non-fiction in our time. It is obvious to .religious who have read the book that Dale Carnegie has many good ideas which would help them practice the virtue Christ recommended above all. Equally obvious is the shallow humanitarian viev~point and the mercenary self-interest that is illustrated in most of the ex-ample}. Since many of the people with whom we come into contact - are influenced more by the humanitarian mentality of this book than by the mind that is in Christ Jesus, it'might be useful to observe how much better Christ can teach us how to win friends-~even according to Carnegie's rules. Carnegie gives six rules for making people like you: (1) become genuinely interested in other i~eople; (2) smile; (3) remember that a man's name is to him the sweetest and most important sound in the English language; (4) be a good listener; (5) talk in terms of the other man's interest; (6) make the other person feel important, and do it sincerely. ' But the very idea of making people like you may seem foreign to religious and a sordid thought. The religious works only for God, seeks to be unknown, sees in superiors and others "no one but only Jesus." True enough, but the loftiest supernatural motives should not be high-lighted in such a way that they crowd natural means out of the picture. Christ, the Religious of religious, worked onl~r for God's glory. "The things that please Him, I do." To do this more effectively He tried to make people not only like but love Him. How else explain the Cross! And when man's love grew cold, Christ did not hesitate to dramatize His desire to win men's love by wearing H~s Heart on His breast, announcing to the world through St. Margaret Mary: "Behold this Heart, which has "loved men so much and receives nothing in return but ingratitude and indifference." Christ was "genuinely interested in other people." He was 252 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS moved with compassion for the multitudes because they were as sheep without a shepherd. He wept over ,Jerusalem. "How often would I ha,~e gathered together thy children, as the ben dotb gather her chickens under .her wings, and thou wouldst not." Christ's interest extended to individuals as well. He pitied the plight of the leper and healed him: "I will, be thou made clean." What interest He showed in Peter! On at least two occasions He insured a pros-perous catch of fish for him. At another time He cured his mother-in- law. Interest is also shown by prayers. "I have prayed for you that your faith fail you not." Genuine interest in others is a big step towards developing that mind that is in Christ ~lesus. It dispels uncharitable thoughts. "The only person who does not improve on acquaintance is self," observes Father Faber. The same writer notes that kindness is not too diffi-cult, for though there are many unkind minds there are hardly any unkind hearts and that a kind mind can be developed by thinking about, being interested in, others. A kind mind implies much thifiking about others without the thoughts being criticisms. A retreat master developed the same thought by the following illustra-tion. A caricaturist seizes on a character weakness and emphasizes it out of all prop.ortion, while the artist is careful to shade the weak-nesses and make the finer qualities stand out. And the artist always comes closer to a true likeness. Dale Carnegie makes much ot: the. smile, featuring Charles Schwab whose smile was literally a million-dollar one. The Evan-gelists do not record the obvious. There is no written record of Christ's sm.ile, yet there is no room for doubting.that Our Lord smiled when He looked up and saw Zacheus, who had to climb a tree to catch a glimpse, when the quick-witted Phoenician woman an-swered, "Even the whelps are permitted to gather the crumbs," and when He surprised the apostles with the miraculous draughts of fish. More important than the smile is what is behind it, the cheerful, light-hea.rted disposition. Christ was a man of sorrows, but He did not let that cast a gloom around Him. He brought cheer to .the wedding feast at.Cana, did not want the Apostles to fast "when the bridegroom was with them," and celebrated Matthew's joining up by eating and drinking with sinners. Christ's doctrine fosters afun-damentally 'cheerful .disposition. "Come to Me all you that labor and are burdened and I will refresh you." "My yoke is sweet, my burden light." "When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites." 253 ~EROME BREUNIG Ret~iew ~or Religious . Professional personality-developers insist on the practice of saying "Good Morning" to develop the smile. "Good Morning" leaves a smile on the face. Religious should not need to paint a smile by any artificial means. Religious should be the happiest peo-ple on earth, and they are. Smiles come readily. Humility, chastity, and charity thrive in an atmosphere of cheerfulness. The best "propaganda" for vocations is a cheerful religious. An old Father observed that the number of vocations from a particular school was. in exact proportion to the number of cheerful scholastics on the faculty. "Remember that a man's name is to him the sweetest and most important sound in the language." Jim Farley could call fifty thou-sand men by their first name. Christ could call fifty billion by their names. "I am the good shepherd," Christ said, "and I know mine and mine know me." The comparison to a shepherd has a special reference to knowing by name. Shepherds in Palestine then and now have a special name for each of their sheep. The sheep recognizes and answers when its name is called. True Christian charity rather than the wisdom of this genera-tion should prompt a religious to pay the personal respect implied in remembering and using another's name. It is disconcerting to find one who should know our name remembering only our face. The inability to remember another by name leaves the impression that he does not impinge our consciousness to any extent. Our Lord paid this mark of respect to His fellow men. Mary Magdalen did not recognize Christ on Easter morning until He said, "Mary." There are other instances. "Lazarus, come forth." "Martha, Martha." "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" On His very first public appearance we find Christ fulfilling the next rule for winning friends: "Be a good listener. 'Encourage others to talk about themselves." On this occasion we observe Christ as a youth in the temple "listening to them and asking questions." Whenever his enemies were baffled by His wise answers, we always have the assurance that C~ist heard them out first. "Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar? . Of which of. the seven will she be wife at the resurrection?" His enemies thought they had a sure enveloping. pincer movement only to find themselves suddenly disarmed, by the. wisdom of the answer. But in every instance Christ did not inter-rupt them until they had finished. A beautiful instance of encouraging others .to talk about them-selves is seen on the road to Emmaus. While the two disciples were September, 1950 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS con;cersing and arguing together, Jesus drew near and went along with them. He began the conversation, "What are these discourses that you hold with one another as you walk, and are sad?" "Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem and hast not known the things that have been done there in these days?" "What things?" Our Lord encourages them. With kindly for-bearance He listens to the entire story. It is only after they have talked themselves out that He begins with Moses and the prophets and interprets to them the Scriptures. Perhaps Father Faber had Christ the Listener in mind when he wrote the paragraph on kind listening. "There is also a grace of kind listening as well as of kind speaking. Some listen with an abstracted air, which shows their thoughts are elsewhere. Or they seem to listen, but by wide answers and irrelevant questions show they have been occupied with their own thoughts, as being more interesting, at least in their own esti-mation, than what you have been saying. Some listen with a kind of importunate ferocity, which makes you feel that you are being put on trial, and that your auditor expects beforehand that you are going to tell him a lie, or to be inaccurate, or to say something of which h~ will disapprove, and that you must mind your expres-sions. Some hear you to the end, and then forthwith begin to talk to you about a similar exl~erience which has bet:allen themselves, making your case only an illustration of their own. Some, meaning to be kind, listen with such a determined, lively, violent attenti6n that you are uncomfortable, and the charm of conversation is at an end. Many persons whose manners will stand the test of speaking break down at once under the trial of listening. But all these things should be brought under the sweet influences of religion. Kind listening is often an air of the most delicate interior mortification and is a great assistance toward kind speaking." Christ, of course, is still listening. He listens to our prayers. He still hears, through His priests, our confessions. Christ "spoke in terms of the other man's interest." Without parables He did not speak to them. And the parables and illustra-tions were taken directly out of the lives ot: the listeners. Fishermen heard truths in terms of nets, farmers, of seed and crops, women, of house cleaning, etc. In the beatitudes Christ took what was closest to most of his hearers, poverty, suffering, lack of property, mourning, persecution, and showed how they could transform these liabilities into assets. 255 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious Finally, tracing out the pattern of Carnegie, we observe that Christ "makes the other person feel important and He does it sin-cerely." "You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world." To Nathaniel, "A true Israelite in whom there is no guile." To Peter, "Thou are Peter and upon this rock I will build my church." John and James were called "Sons of Thunder." Christ has a more sublime way of making others appreciate their dignity. "We will come to him and make our abode with him." The dig-nity of a Christian! As St. Paul echoes and reechoes: "You are temples of God and the Spirit of God dwells within you." All of Dale Carnegie's ways to make people like you are merely applications of the golden rule, which is of divine origin. In fact, the golden rule was formulated by Christ Himself in His sermon on the mount. "All things whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you also to them." Of course, Christ both in His example and His teaching (He began to do and to teach), shows other ways to make people like you. For instance, "Greater love than this no man has than that a man gives his life for another." Not only does Christ show us how to win friends. The supreme friend-winner sfipplies the necessary and only adequate and enduring motivation. He seems to make the final judgment at the end of the world hinge on what we do or don't do for others. "As long as yofi did it to the least of my brethren, you did it to Me." Book Reviews OUR WAY TO THE FATHER: Meditations for each day of the year in four volumes. By Leo M. Krenz, S.,J. Pp. xx -I- 518: 411; 535, 516. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1950. $15.00 (set of four volumes). In "An Apologia" introducing this rich four-volume series of meditations and readings the author gives an account of "the pur-pose, plan, and method of this course of meditations for religious." Besides that portion of the text which constitutes the meditation proper and is printed in large type there are added paragraphs which in many various ways supplement what is primarily proposed for reflection and prayer. To each meditation is prefixed'a preamble, 256 September, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS consisting usualIy of some verses from Scripture, to strike as it were the keynote that characterizes the exercise. There are always two preludes, three points, and a colloquy. It is highly distinctive of this meditation-course that very often in smaller print there are additions "intended to afford further helpful explanations; to sup- . ply more pointed applications; to furnish pertinent biblical, his-torical, ascetical, theological, or philosophical information; or even to satisfy longings for better knowledge of some puzzling dogmatic truth or fact . It is hoped that these supplementary notes and additions may do helpful service as welcome material for pertinent spiritual reading, and at times even for deep study and possibly for round-table discussion." This expedient of appending further develop-" ments helps the author to achieve what seems to be one of his leading preoccupations, namely, to provide religious who make use of these four hundred meditations with a carefully planned and elaborate exposition of a fairly complete system of spirituality, comprising both instruction and motivation. Hence this work could be used for devotional reading in a way and to an extent that would not be true of typical meditation books. A special effort is made to keep in mind the needs of both beginners and proficients in the religious life and in mental prayer. The ways in which Christ and the Apostles instructed their first disciples are consciously imitated with the design of proposing the highest ideals, of getting them practically accepted, and at the same time of pointing out the discrepancies that are only too likely to exist between the profession and the performance of religious men or women. The epistles of the New Testament are also used to learn and copy the method and means by which the Apostles sought to transform recent converts from Judaism or paganism into "be-lievers . doers . and lovers." With this touch of antiquity goes a peculiar flavor of modernity, in that the spiritual lessons of these volumes are studiously adapted to the conditions of our times and place. Evidently it is the author's most earnest and zealous hope that those who use these suggestions for prayerful reflection will. become just what, in accordance with the highest religious ideals and their own special vocation and under present-day circumstances, they ought to be. The theme dominating the whole series of medi-tations is that God is an infinitely good and great father and is inviting us to" an ever closer union with Him. --G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD, S.J. 257 BOOK REVIEWS Reoieto for Reti~ious THE HISTORY OF: THE POPES. By Ludwig yon Pastor. Translated by E. F. Peeler. Vol. 3S: Benedict XIV (1740-1758). Pp. xllv -I- 516. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, Missouri. $S.00. It surely seems like a return to normalcy when Herder resumes the publication of the English translation of Pastor's great'History. This is the very volume that Pastor was working on when death snatched the pen from his hand in 1928. But so much work had been done upon the pontificates up to and including Plus VI (d. 1799), that these materials were later rounded out and .published with the aid of several scholars named in the introduction. There are thus several additional volumes to appear in English; we trust their appearance will not be further unduly delayed. Those who want their Church history to be nothing but "edi-fying" stories had better not take up this volume; those who have enjoyed--and been built up--by the previous ones of the series, will know what to expect here. They will see a Pope, sixty-five at his election, eighty-three at his death, patiently, even light-heartedly governing the Church in a setting of unparalleled diplomatic black-mail. "Our pontificate," he once said, "will be famous for the injuries we suffer" (p. 111). He more than once described himself as "working with a pistol at his head" (p. 273), carrying on in the face of disappointments, insults, frustration. But by every conceivable concession he prevented for those eight-een years all the gigantic conflicts of the day from reaching the explosions that carrie not long afterwards. The chief interest of this volume turns on that slippery story of the ,lansenists, who for a long time had enjoyed immunity and pro-tection, particularly in Fiance, in their defiance of papal authority. Many different factors complicated the "straight" religious issue, but at every turn it was the Church in France that was torn to shreds by parlement and prelates, by Pompadour's open immorality, and Louis XV's blundering ineptitudes. As early as 1750 Parisians were calling themselves "Republicans," and a French bishop recalled in a pastoral letter that an English king had been beheaded in 1649 (p. 225). But as Benedict passed from the scene the 3ansenists were still in the ascendant, and the party's gre~atest hour, the Synod of Pistoia (1786-87), was still in the making. It is almost another preview of history that in the early years of this pontificate a group of people came together in Rome to plot the total destruction of the Society of,lesus (p. 390). One of those 258 September, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS plotters was a young man named Ricci, who later achieved a baleful fame by presiding at the Synod of Pistoia as its bishop. It is one of the ironies of history that he was a nephew of a General of the desuits he had helped to destroy, and who had died in prison in 1775. Even in the Sacred College there were those who said: "Hold Rome in check by Gallicanism, but Gallicanism by means of Rome" (p. 287). In Benedict's lifetime this conspiracy was. contained, but later on the Tanucci-Pombal-Choiseul p~essure, not to mention the monarchs they served, produced the suppression of 1773. Benedict XIV had a scholar's reputation, particularly in histori-cal and canonical fields, when he came to the papacy. His has been an enduring influence, as organizer, legislator, reformer. His regula-tions for beatifications and canonizations still govern those functions. He .was hailed as "the greatest of the canonists" (p. 298), even as Gu~ranger later said of him that no Pope had ever possessed such a knowledge of the Roman liturgy (p. 301). The book's final section, treating of the missions, handles two other famous controversies he settled: the Chinese Rites (duly 11, 1742) and those of Malabar (Sept. 12, 1744). In this connection it is regrettable that the translation mirrors conditions as they were twenty years ago, for, owing to prgfound changes in the religious mentality of the Orient, it is precisely these acts of Benedict XIV that have been changed in our day by Plus XI and Pius XII. But that was in the interval between the writing of the book and this English translation.--GERALD ]~LLARD, S.d. THE HOLY SEI: AT WORK. B~/Edward L. Hes÷on, C.S.C;. Pp. x~v + 188. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 1950. $2.50. This book gives us a popular but adequate explanation of how the Holy Father, supreme visible head of the Church, together with his Senate of Cardinals, governs the universal Church through the medium of the Roman Curia. After a brief introduction explaining the nature and meaning of the terms: Pope, Curia, and Cardinals, the author passes on to the most important part of the book--a one-hundred page account of the various Roman Congregations--in which he discusses the Con-gregations, first in general and then in particular, giving the origin, history, competency, and personnel of each. Part three does the same for the Tribunals ot: the Holy See: the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary, the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signature, and the Sacred Roman Rota. The fourth and last section treats of the Offices of the 259 BOOK REVIEWS Revieu~ for Religious Holy See: the Apostolic Chancery, the Apostolic Datary, the Rev-erend Apostolic Chamber, the Secretariate of State with its associated Secretariates of Briefs to Princes, and of Latin Letters. A chapter on the Code of Canon Law, the official bod~ of ecclesiastical law for the Latin Church, and one on the election of a new Pope bring the work to a close. The Holy See at Work contains a wealth of interesting details, such as the process of a petition through one of the Congregations from beginning to end, the meaning of "the secret of the Holy Office," the appointment of bishops, the relation of the Churches of the Orient to the Latin Church, the various steps by which a diocesan religious congregation obtains the approval of the Holy See and becomes pontifical, the evolution of a mission from an apostolic prefecture to a diocese, steps to beatification and canonization, special procedure of the Sacred Penitentiary, process of a marriage case through the Rota, kinds of papal documents, the election of a new Pope. Priests and religious, as well as the interested laity, are indebted to Father Heston for having made all this information available in handy form and at a reasonable price. Twenty-two illustrations and three charts enhance the usefulness of the volume. --ADAM C. ELLIS, S.J. LITTLE MEDITATIONS ON THE HOLY EUCHARIST. By Rev. Thomas D. Williams. Pp. 319. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wis-consin. $3.50. The Holy Eucharist deserves our whole-hearted appreciation and highest esteem. Yet, because it is shrouded in mystery, and our senses fail to penetrate the veil which hides the Real Presence of Jesus on our altars, we often fail to value this priceless Gift of God as we should. How can we become thoroughly acquainted with so inestimable a treasure, how acquire a conscious security of faith? By frequently meditating on the Real Presence, on the value of Holy Communion, and on the significance of the Sacrifice of the Mass. To make this easy and attractive, Father Williams offers a short meditation for every day of the year on some phase of the Eucharistic mystery. These considerations, based on the words of Scripture and the teachings of theology, are so clear and simple, so attractive and devotional, that any one who ponders them slowly and prayerfully will continually grow in knowledge and love of the Holy Eucharist. The author makes excellent and practical use of Scripture texts, which lend a stimulating touch to every paragraph. Throughout 260 September, 1950 BOOK NOTICES we sense a mellow tone of ~olid piety, and nowhere is there the least evidence of sentithentality or pious exaggeration. We highly recom-mend the book for use in visiting the Blessed Sacrament. --HENRY WILLMERING, S.J. BOOK NOTICES WE LIVE WITH OUR EYES OPEN is a sequel to the earlier work by Dom Hubert van Zeller, O.S.B., which was entitled We Die Standir~g Up. In his first book Father van Zeller treated chiefly the obstacles encountered in the quest for holiness. In the thirty-nine essays of the present volume he centers our attention on the means to sanctity. Here as before the treatment of his theme is straightforward and stimulating. Most of the essays discuss the use of creatures, in-terior prayer, mysticism, asceticism, and the proper orientation of the virtue of love in general and as applied to the sacrament of matri-mony. (New York: Sheed ~ Ward, 1950. Pp. x -q- 172. $2.00.) Richelieu's France of the seventeenth century was the scene for the life and work of Charles de Condren, the second superior of the Oratory in France. M. V. Woodgate's CHARLES DE CONDREN iS not a mere pious biography in the old tradition, but a balanced, though brief, account of a very human, holy, and at times, weak personality. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xi + 155. $2.25.) LITURGICAL PRAYER: ITS HISTORY AND SPIRIT, by Msgr. Fer-nand Cabrol, O.S.B., is an offset reproduction of a liturgical classic which first apeared in its French original in 1900. It was later trans-lated by a Benedictine of Stanbrook in a 1921 edition. The litera-ture and the notes cited are, therefore, of the last years of the last cen-tury, but the text, by a man who could combine deep knowledge with popular presentation, is as timely now as when first written. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xiv -t- 382. $3.50.) The important role of congregations of religious women in the development of the Church, and especially of Catholic education, in the United States cannot be overemphasized. One of the latest his-torical studies dealing with this theme is Sister Maria Kostka Logue's SISTERS OF ST. JOSEPH OF PHILADELPHIA. This carefully docu- 261 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Reoieto for Religious mented, highly objective, and interesting work covers a century of growth and development of the Congregation in the eastern states from 1847 to 1947. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xii q- 380. $5.00.) Religious, by profession particularly interested in the hidden life of Christ with its message of self-effacement, obscurity and obedi-ence, should be grateful to Dr. Patrick J. Temple for PATTERN DIVINE: OUR LORD'S HIDDEN LIFE. This book fills a real need, for too many books on the childhood of Christ are either apologetic or piously exaggerated, while chapters in standard "Lives of Christ" are generally too meagre. Dr. Temple gives a detailed account of the exterior life of the Holy Family at Nazareth and presents the Jewish life, society and thought that affected the youthful Christ. Every page of the book is documented, and the explanations in the foot-notes justify the claim that the story of PATTERN DIVINE is not imaginative and fictitious, but sober truth and reliable fact. The devotional tone, which pervades the whole account, is conspicuous in a concluding summary paragraph for each chapter. A very copious bibliography and a detailed index are additional assets of the work. (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Company, 1950. Pp. xii-k 389. $5.00) PRAYER FOR _A_LL TIMES, by Pierre Charles, S. J., and trans-lated from the French by Maud Monahan, is a reprint of a spiritual classic that has already gone through seven editions. The publishers are to be congratulated for combining the former three separate vol-umes. into one. Each of the ninty-nine chapters of two and one half pages deals with some important point in the spiritual life. The book can be used either for spiritual reading or for points for medi-tation. One chapter at a time is sufficient since each chapter demands reflection, application, prayer. The deep spiritual insight and many practical suggestions are brought home in a kindly spirit and a graphic style. (Westminsier, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. 328. $3.50.) BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS [For the most part, these notices are purely descriptive, based on a cursory exam-ination of the books listed.] THE GRAIL, St. Meinrad, Indiana. THE HOLY RULE OF ST. BENEDICT. Pp. xiv q- 95. $1.00 (paper) ; $2.00. (cloth). 262 September, 1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT8 SAINT BENEDICT THE MAN. By Dom I. Ryelandt, O.S.B. Translated from the French by Rev. Patrick Shaughnessy, O.S.B. Pp. 102. $1.25. The first book, a second printing, besides the Rule contains a Short biographical sketch of St. Benedict by Aidan Cardinal Gasque~ and a sermon on the saint by Pope Pius XlI. The second contains three studies of the inner life, "the moral physiognomy," of St. Bene-dict. The studies are based on an analysis of his Rule, on St. Greg-ory the Great's life of th~ saint, and on a comparative study of St. Benedict and St. Francis de Sales. B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, St. Louis, Missouri. CHRIST THE SAVIOR. By Rev. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P. Translated by Dom Bede Rose, O.S.B. Pp. iv + 748. $9.00. This is the English edition of Ft. Lagrange's Latin textbook, DE CHRISTO SALVATORE, a commentary on the Third Part of St. Whomas's SUMMA THEOLOGICA. A thirty-page "Compendium of Mari-ology" rounds out the volume. ISTITUTO PADANO DI ARTI GRAFICHE, Rovigo, Italy IL DIRITTO DELLE RELIGIOSE. By Rev. Louis Fanfani, O.P. Pp. xxii + 346. L. 1500. This is the third edition of the author's Italian LAW FOR RELIGIOUS WOMEN based on his larger Latin work, DE IURE RELIGIOSORUM. "It has been brought up to date with the most recent decisions of the Holy See, and has been improved in some points by a more accurate exposition of the canons of the Code referring to religious women." NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Margland. REVOLUTION IN A CITY PARISH. By Abb4 G. Michonneau. Pp. xxi -~- 189. $2.50. The city parish is in the mission of France among the working class population in the Paris suburbs. A co-worker, Father H. Ch. Ch4ry, O.P., and the Abb4 discuss in dia-logue form the needs and difficulties, the objectives and methods in their missionary apostolate. SAINT PAUL AND APOSTOLIC WRITINGS. By Sebastian Bul-lough, O.P. Pp. xviii q- 338. $3.00. This latest volume in the series of Scripture textbooks for use in Catholic schools in England deals with the Pauline Epistles, the seven Catholic Epistles, and the Apocalypse. Ft. Bullough's exegesis and commentary provide a valuable background for a more intelligent and fruitful understand-ing of these important New Testament writings. 263 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Ret;ieto for Religious SERMON NOTES ON THE SUNDAY PROPERS. By Rev. F. H. Drinkwater. Pp. 119. $2.00. A reprint. The author derives useful themes from parts of the Mass propers exclusiye of the epistles and gospels. SOME RARE VIRTUES. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Translated from the French by Sister Mary Edgar Meyer, O.S.F. Pp. vi q- 213'. $1.75. All virtues are rare, but some that Fr. Plus treats of are especially rare, such as "Knowing how to be grateful," "Good use of time" and "Pity for the sick and afflicted." It is the first English publication of this work. THE. SUPPLICATION OF SOULS. By St,f Thomas More. Edited by Sister Mary Thecla, S.C. Pp. xiii -{- 187. $2.50. This book is Thomas More's refutation of the heretical work of Simon Fish,' SUPPLICATION FOR THE BEGGARS. This is an instance to prove Father J. J. Daly's remark "More's was the" only pen at the service of the Church to do battle in the vernacular against heresy." In the book St. Thomas defends the clergy against irreverent and unfair attack and upholds the doctrine on purgatory, making a moving ap-peal for the poor souls. The book is mostly, but not exclusively, of historical interest. FOR YOUR INFORMATION (Continued from page 251) tolic Press Association, a non-profit organization. One departure from existing journalism is the financing of the paper. Instead of advertising it will depend on circulation revenue. And for initial expenses the founders are enlisting the charity of those Catholics who believe there is a need for such a paper. There will be five issues weekly, and two editions: one local and one national. The national edition will be delivered by air cargo and should reach most subscribers on the day of publication. Prices for one year are: $14.00 for the national edition; $12.50 for the local. For the scale of prices on shorter terms, as well as for other informa-tion, write to: The Sun Herald, 702 East 12th St., Kansas City 6, Mo. Confessors' Patron St. Alphonsus Liguori, founder of the Redemptorists, has long (Continued on page 280) 264 ues!: ons Answers ~2 Im We wish to gain the Jubilee indulgence. Our local ordinary has made no pronouncement on the subject. Have our i:onfessors the authority to prescribe the necessary conditions for gaining this indulgence? Is it neces-sary to go to confession and to receive Holy Communion each time? As Father Bergh pointed out in his article on "The Holy Year of 1950" in the January number of the Reuieto, the general require-ments for gaining the Jubilee indulgence in Rome are: reception of the sacraments of Penance and.the Eucharist,-and visits to the four major Roman basilicas in which certain prescribed prayers must be said. Outside Rome, for those who are entitled by way of exception to gain the Jubilee indulgence at home (all women religious among others), the local ordinary or any confessor delegated by him may substitute other works, of religion, piety, and charity in place of the visits to the four Roman basilicas. In places where the local ordinary has, made no provision, confessors may presume that they have received tacit delegation to make the substitution. Confession and Holy Communion are required for each gaining of the indulgence. ~22m Is it in accord with canon law for religious 1o be given permissibn ÷6 take trips during the summer if their relatives pay the expensesmeven if those trips are pilgrimages to Rome and to various shrines? The obligation to common life which is imposed upon all reli-gious by canon 594 forbids superiors to allow certain members of the community to take a trip (even though it be a pious pilgrimage) merely because parents, relatives, or friends are willing to pay the expenses. Common life requires that the community supply a reli-gious with whatever he needs, just as everything which comes to him as a religions must be put in the community funds. Common life also requires that, generally speaking, equal opportunities be given to all members of the community. Hence a superior could allow the members of his community to make a pious pilgrimage provided that he supplied the necessary expense money for such members of his community as do not have relatives or friends who are willing to pay for them. Again, the constitutions of the community would have to be consulted to see whether such trips, pious or otherwise, are allowed. An article explaining this matter of common life in 265 QUESTIONS AND ~NSWERS Review for Religious detail will be found in this Review for January, 1948, pp. 33-45. When we say that common life generally requires that equal opportunity be given to all, we do not mean that it is a~ainst com-mon life to allow certain privileges (like a pilgrimage) to jubilari-ans, to the perpetually professed, and so forth. In such cases, how-ever, the use of the privilege should be extended to the whole group and should not be limited to those who can procure the necessary funds from relatives or friends. --23- Has a meeting of provincial superiors presided over by the superior general and his councilors the authority to change a custom which has been observed in the congregation for over one hundred years, or is such a change reserved to the general, chapter? Only a general chapter can change customs which are common t~ a religious congregation. The constitutions could give the power to the superior general and his councilors, but this would have to be stated explicitly. --24~ What precisely are the Normae, so often referred to in leglslation for religious communities? How much authority is aHached to them? Must all constitutions and custom books of nuns conform to these Normae? About the year 1860 the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars, then in charge of all religious orders and congregations, began to establish uniform regulations for the new religious congre-gations, especially of women, which were increasing in number. More or less uniform sets of constitutions were given to them on trial, until they took permanent shape for each congregation in the draft which was given final approval. In the course of forty years some things were changed, others were added, and some were dropped. These regulations, in the shape of a set of model constitutions for religious congregations with simple vows, were published on June 28, 1901 under the title of Norms according to which the Sacred Congregation o~ Bishops and Regulars is accustomed to proceed in the approval of new institutes with simple vows. The Normae did not establish any formal legislation for religious congregations, but were published for the sole use of the Sacred Congregation as a guide in the composition and construction of constitutions for new congre-gations with simple vows seeking the approval of the Holy See. Thus most of the congregations approved during the last part of the nine- 266 September, 1950 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS teenth century and first part of the twentieth (until the new Code of Canon Law in 1918) are based exclusively on the Normae. These old constitutions had to be revised in order to bring them into con-formity with the new Code of Canon Law. However, most of the matter contained in the Normae was incorporated into the Code, with modifications, omissions, and additions, of course. Hence the Normae are useful even today because they give us a better under-standing of the canons of the Code which deal with similar matters, as well as of the constitutions themselves in which the wording of the Normae has been retained in great part. To answer our question-: New constitutions and customs need not and should not conform to the old Normae but exclusively to the present Code of Canon Law. --25~ Is ÷here any difference in ÷he meanlncj and in the use of the followin9 words applicable to Sisters taken collectively: community, order, sister-hood, congregation, institute? In everyday life these general terms are used indiscriminately to signify a group of religious women. Canonically speaking, how-ever, there is a difference in their meaning, which is contained in the definitions provided for us in canon 488 of the Code. Thus: (1) An "institute" (religio) is any society, approved by legitimate ecclesiastical authority, the members of which tend to evangelical perfection, according to the laws proper to the society, by the profes: sion of public vows, whether perpetual or temporary. (2) An "order" is an institute whose members make profession of solemn vows. (3) A "religious congregation" or simply a "congregation" is an institute whose members make profession of simple vows only, whether perpetual or temporary. The canon does not define the terms "community" and "sisterhood," but it does define (4) "nuns" as religious women with solemn vows or, unless it appears other-wise from the nature of the case or from the context, religious women whose vows are normally solemn, but which, by a disposition of the Holy See, are simple in certain regions; whereas "sisters" are reli-gious women with simple vows. The term "community" is not used officially in canon law. It popularly indicates either an "institute," which is a general term in-cluding both orders and congregations, or it is used to identify a local group of religious, classified in canon law as a "religious house." "Sisterhood" is a popular term for an institute of religious women, 267 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS whether of nuns or of sisters, though technically it should be restricted to an institute of sisters only. 26 Do the words: rule, holy rule, constitutions, and customary, represent distinct thlncjs, or has the term "the rule" the same meanincj as "constitu-tions"? Technically the term '"Rule" always refers to one of four great rules which most religious orders followed down to the sixteenth century, and which they still follow, and which are followed by a number of modern religious congregations. These are: the Rule of St. Benedict, the Rule of St. Basil, the Rule of St. Augustine, and the Rule ot: St. Francis. To these four rules, which are stable and unchangeable, other regulations regarding details not contained in the rules have been added, and these additions were called "constitu-tions." In the sixteenth century the new orders of clerics regular who did not adopt any of the four great rules, introduced a new system whereby the fixed and stable parts of their legislation were called "constitutions" while other minor regulations which were changeable were called "rules." Modern congregations, even though they follow one of the four great rules, have a body of practical legislation known as "constitu-tions," and approved either by the local Ordinary or by the Holy See. Minor observances are called "regulations" or "rules." The term "customary," or "book of customs," and the like, indicate observances usually brought into being by custom or usage, first in one community, then in another, and finally in a whole insti-tute. These may be changed by a general chapter, but no general chapter has the right to change the constitutions approved by the Holy See or by the local ordinary. OUR CONTRIBUTORS P. DELETTER is a member of the faculty of St. Mary's theological college, Kurseong, India. WINFRID HERBST, writer, retreat master, former master ot~ nov-ices, is on the faculty of the Salvatorian Seminary, St. Nazianz, Wisconsin. GER-ALD KELLY and JEROME ]~REUNIG are members of the editorial board of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS.Fr. Breunig succeeds Father Alfred Schneider as editorial secretary. 268 Report !:o Rome [In the following pages we conclude the publishing of the List of Questions to be answered in the quinquennial report by pontifical institutes. We have printed these questions, not only as an aid to superiors who must answer, them, but also as a means of giving all religious a better knowledge of the Church's law concerning religious. The questions are published exactly as they appear in the official English trans-lation. Questions marked with an asterisk (*) concern only institutes of men: those marked with a cross ('1") refer only to institutes of women. For information about the means of obtaining the copies of the questions, see p. 236.--ED.] ARTICLE III Coneernlncj those who have departed or been dismissed, and others who leave the Institute Concerning those who haue gone out from the Institute 248. a) How many in the Institute and in each Province, at the expiration of their vows did not renew them, either because they chose not to do so or because they were not allowed to do so. b) How many of the professed of temporary vows were dis-pensed during their vows, and how many of the professed of per-petual vows were dispensed. 249. Were those who were dispensed from tbeir vows at their own request or with their consent, forced, or without serious and grave reasons and precautions permitted, to leave the religious house before the rescript was duly executed. 250. How many transfers, if any, were there to another In-stitute. C6ncerning apostates and fugitiues 251. a) How many apostates and fugitives, if any, were there during the five-year period. b) Did the Society or Institute observe the provisions of law concerning apostates and fugitives, by seeking them (c. 645 § 2),and if this proved fruitless, by proceeding against them according to law, so that their juridical condition should be clearly defined. Were the provisions of law regarding those who came back observed (cc. 2385, 2386), and is watchful provision made for their spiritual good. Concerning those dismissed bg Superiors and those not admitted to profession 252. a) Since the last Report, how many of the professed of 269 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious temporary v, ows and how many of the professed of perpetual vows have been dismissed, according to Provinces. b) In the dismissal of religious, whether of temporary or of perpetual vows, were the norms of the common law (cc. 647 § 2, 649-672) as well as those of the Constitutions observed. c) Was the same done in regard to not admitting the professed of temporary vows to the renewal of their vows or to perpetual profession (c. 637). 253. Were the dismissed of temporary vows, while the recourse duly made within ten days was pending (c. 647 § 2; S. C. of Reli-gious, 20 July 1923, AAS, XV, I923, p. 457), and the dismissed of perpetual vows, before the decree or judgment of dismissal had been confirmed by the Sacred Congregation (cc. 652, 666), forced to leave the Institute. 254. Are the dismissed who are not in sacred orders released from their vows by the dismissal (c. 669 § 1); and if the vows remain, does the Institute show solicitude regarding their condition (c. 672 § 1). Concerning those dismissed by the law itself and those sent back to the world 255. What were the cases, and the causes which led to them, for both the professed of temporary and those of perpetual vows, where they were either sent back to the world on account of grave scandal or very grave harm (co. 653, 668) or dismissed by the law itself (c. 646). 256. Were steps immediately taken according to the Code (cc. 646 § 2, 653, 668) to determine the condition of those dis-missed by the law itself and of those sent back to the world. 257. Is there any such person whose condition still r~mains undetermined. 258. What cases if any have occurred of the reduction to the lay state of religious who had received sacred orders; how many were voluntary and how many penal. Concerning those who were exctoistered 259. How many cases of exclaustration were there, if any; are the causes carefully and conscientiously pondered in the presence of God before the petition is recommended and the rescript executed. 260. Does the Institute take care: a) That if it seems necessary to ask for an extension of the 270 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME indults, they be renewed in due time. b) That the persons who are excloistered lead a worthy reli-gious llfe and return as soon as possible to some house of the Insti-tute. 261". Likewise does the'Institute take care regarding those who have been secularized on trial, and regarding their return to religion if at the expiration of the three-year period the indult is not renewed or they are not accepted, by the Ordinary. Concerning absences from the house ¯ 262. Do Superiors see to it that subjects remain out of the house only for a just and grave reason and for the shortest possible time, according to the Constitutions (c. 606 § 2). 263. For absences which exceed six months, except for studies or ministries according to law and the Constitutions, was the permis-sion of the Holy See always obtained (c. 606 § 2). 264. Is it allowed by reason or under color of a vacation, that time be spent with one's parents or outside a house of the Institute. Concbrning the deceased 265. Were the prescribed suffrages faithfully and promptly per-formed for all the deceased. ARTICLE IV Concernincj the various classes and conditions of religlous § 1. - CONCERNING CLERICS (This is dealt with in the Report on formation and studies). § 2. - CONCERh~ING Conversi OR COADJUTORS Concerning their education and training 266. Do Superiors, in accordance with c. 509 § 2, 2° give to those religious who belong to the class of conversi, instruction in Christian doctrine; and do Superiors, both before and after their pro-fession but especially during the earlier years, carefully attend to their spiritual, intellectual, civil and technical education according to the functions which they have to fulfill. 267. Are the religious allowed to engage in works which do not seem to be suitable to the religious state. 268. Do Superiors with paternal charity diligently provide also for the bodily health of the conversi or coadjutors. 271 REPORT TO ROME § 3. CONCERNING THOSE WHO ARE APPLIED TO MILITARY SERVICE Concerning the profession of those who are to be called for the first time to active militarg service 269*. Did Superiors regulate according to the decrees of the Holy See the temporary professions of those who are to be called for the first time to active military service or its equivalent. 270*. Were perpetual professions permitted before the first active military service or its equivalent, to which the young men are liable to be called. Concerning the religious during their militarg service 271". a) Did Superiors take care of their members in the service, watch over their life, communicate frequently with them, requiring a periodical account of their conduct, their actions and exercises of piety, etc. b) What special means were used to secure their perseverance. 272*. In cases of dismissal for just and reasonable causes, or of voluntary s.eparation from the Institute, did the Major Superior fol-low the p~escribed procedure and faithfully conserve all the docu-ments in the Archives. Concerning the renewal of temporarg profession after military service and the making of perpetual profession 273*. For admission to the renewal of temporary profession, was everything done which is prescribed by the common law and in the decrees regarding this matter. 274*. Was the prescribed time of the temporary profession com-pleted after military service, and also the time of the temporary vows which is prescribed by law and by the Constitutions before the making of the perpetual profession. CHAPTER III CONCERNING THE WORKS AND MINISTRIES OF THE INSTITUTE ARTICLE I Concerning minis÷ties in general Concerning the special end and the works of the Institute in general 275. Were the ministries proper to the Institute abandoned or neglected. 276. Were any works engaged in which are not contained in the 272 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME special end of the Institute; if so, with what permission was this done. Concerning abuses in the exercise of ministries 277. Were any abuses in the exercise of ministries introduced during this time; if so what were they. 278. Is all appearance of avarice carefully avoided on the occasion of ministries. 279. Was begging from door to door, according to law (cc. 621, 622) and the Constitutions, done with the required permissions. 280. Moreover, in begging, were the rules of law (c. 623), the instructions of the Holy See (c. 624) and the norms of the Consti-tutions observed. 281. By reason of or under pretext of ministries, are an excessive or too worldly communication with seculars and frequent and pro-longed absences from the religious house permitted. 282. What precautions are taken in this communication in order to avoid harm to the religious and scandal to seculars. Concerning difficulties with the secular clergy or with other Institutes, etc. because of the ministries 283. On the occasion of the ministries did any friction occur with ecclesiastical Superiors, with pastors and the secular clergy, with other Institutes or with Chaplains. What were the chief instances of such difficulties and where did they occur. 284. What probable reasons can be assigned for these difficulties. and what remedies can be suggested for their avoidance. ARTICLE II Concerning special ministries Concerning Missions among infidels and heretics 285. In the Missions, or in any one of them, did the religious life suffer any harm, and if so, what were the reasons for this. 286. What safeguards were used or should have been used so that in the apostolate the faithful observance of religious discipline and the care of one's own sanctification be better secured. 287*. In the Missions, is the internal religious Superior distinct. from the ecclesiastical Superior. 288*. Did this union of offices in the same person result in advantages or rather in disadvantages. 273 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious Concerning Parishes, Churches and Sanctuaries 289*. For the incorporation or union of parishes, was an indult of the Holy See obtained, according to cc. 452 § 1, 1423 § 2, so that there should be a union or incorporation properly effected. 290*. In what form were Parishes united to the Institute: pleno iure (absolutely, at the will of the Holy See), in temporalibus, etc., and from what date. (A copy of the document should be sent if there is one). 291". Was an agreement made with the Ordinary of the place to accept any parish. (Send copies of the agreements made during the five-year period). 292*. How do Superiors watch over and assist those of their subjects who are pastors (c. 631 §§ I-2), and in case of need admonish and correct them. 293*. Was the office of local Superior ever united with that of pastor, observing c. 505; did this union give rise to difficulties, or was it on the contrary attended with good results. 294*. Did the Institute obtain from local Ordinaries that Churches or Sanctuaries should be entrusted to it; if so, with what permission and on what terms and conditions was this done. 295*. How do all Superiors see to it that religious discipline suffer no harm from the ministries engaged in by the religious in parishes or in public churche~ which are entrusted to them. Concerning Colleges, Schools and Seminaries 296,*. Has the Institute entrusted to it any Seminaries of clerics, and if so on what terms. (Documents and agreements entered into regarding this matter during the five-year period should be attached). 297*. In these Seminaries, are there any difficulties with the Ordi-naries, concerning either the religious life and discipline or the gov-ernment of the Seminary. 298*. What measures and efforts are employed toward the sound and thorough training and religious education of the students. 299. Are there houses for the residence of young people who are attending public schools. 300. In these cases is very special care taken to see that the schools are safe from the standpoint of both instruction and education; especially is a careful supervision maintained over the instruction and religious education; and if there are any deficiencies are they carefully remedied. 301t. Are there schools which are attended by both sexes; 274 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME as regards fixing the age beyond which boys may not be admitted or retained, have the prescriptions made by the Ordinaries been observed. 302. Do Superiors strictly see to it that Rectors, Prefects, Teach-ers and Professors receive adequate preparation for their work: a) Scientifically, by acquiring knowledge which corresponds adequately to the grade of the class, and by obtaining degrees and certificates, even such as are recognized outside ecclesiastical circles. b) Pedagogically, by the study and practice of the art of teaching. c) Spiritually, so that they may exercise the office of teaching with a genuine zeal for souls and make it a means of sanctification for themselves and others. 303. Do Superiors carefuIly see to it that the work of teaching be properly harmonized with religious discipline. 304. Did they promptly remove from the office of teaching those who in practicing it make light of the religious life and are not a good example to the students. Concerning the practice of the corporal works of mercg 305. Does the Institute practice the corporal works of mercy toward the sick, orphans, the aged, etc. 306. Are there: a) Guest-houses and hospital

Transcript of an oral history interview with W. Russell Todd conducted by Joseph Cates at the Sullivan Museum and History Center on May 16 and May 19, 2016, as part of the Norwich Voices oral history project. W. Russell Todd graduated from Norwich University in 1950 and was president of the university from 1982 to 1992. In his interview, he discusses his thirty-two years of active duty in the U.S. Army as well as his experiences at Norwich University. ; 1 W. Russell Todd, NU '50, Oral History Interview Interviewed on May 16, 2016 and May 19, 2016 At Sullivan Museum and History Center Interviewed by Joseph Cates JOSEPH CATES: This is Joseph Cates. Today is May 16th, 2016. I'm interviewing General Russell Todd. This interview is taking place at the Sullivan Museum and History Center. This interview is sponsored by the Sullivan Museum and History Center and is part of the Norwich Voices Oral History Project. OK, first tell me your full name. RUSSELL TODD: William Russell Todd. JC: When were you born? RT: I was born on the first day of May, 1928, in Seattle, Washington. JC: What Norwich class are you? RT: Class of 1950. My father was 26. My son was -- I'll think about that. JC: Well, we'll get back to that. Tell me about where you grew up and your childhood. RT: For the first year of my life we lived in Seattle, Washington. Dad had a job with a lumber company out there, getting experience to come back to work for his father, who ran a lumber company just outside Milton, Massachusetts. So I grew up for the first nine or ten years in Milton, Massachusetts, a very nice place, right on the edge of where Mattapan and Milton come together. There was a lot of traffic. Well, just for an example, during that period of time I came up with my dad to his fifteenth reunion, and the difference in traffic between where we lived and what we found up here was considerable. When I got back to school on Monday the teacher said, "Russell had a day off. He's now going to tell us what he saw." Well, nothing came to mind, and I stood and told them that I had seen something they had never seen, miles and miles and miles of dirt roads. Now I live on one. (laughs) JC: Was that the first time you were ever at Norwich? RT: Yeah. JC: What was your impression of it when you first saw it? RT: It was a very interesting period of time. It was just before World War II affected the United States, and many, many people were sending their sons to Norwich -- rather than perhaps better prepared schools -- because they could get a commission. They assumed that everyone was going to go to war, and the opportunity of getting an education and a commission together at the same time really appealed to a lot of people. Our football team got everybody we wanted of great quality. We won all the games in that time 2 frame. And we had some very, very fine people who came back in 1946, the year I entered the university, and they made a big impression on my life. JC: I'm sure. I assume the buildings were the same. There weren't any new buildings between the time that you went and -- RT: As a matter of fact it was 1941 I believe, and two buildings on the main parade ground were being dedicated. One wasn't quite finished, and the other was, and two new dormitories shows you an example of what I was saying, how it was a golden period in Norwich's history. But saying that, the opposite is true when the war ends. You remember that we had, what, 15 cadets come up here after the Civil War. They all got off the train, (laughs) yeah, we don't think much about that. It's happened each time there's been a war. The incentive, or the idea, or the concept of perhaps having to serve didn't appeal to a lot of people at the end of wars. JC: Right. You kind of have a boom before the war and a bust after the war. RT: Yeah. JC: What made you decide to come to Norwich? RT: I think probably that trip did, that and the fact my dad was always talking about it. He would make us on Saturday nights -- eating beans and franks -- to sing Norwich songs around the table. (laughs) JC: Do you remember any of those Norwich songs? RT: There's a good one. What is it? "Oh, My First Sergeant" "Oh, my first sergeant, he is the worst of them all. He gets us up in the morning before first call. It's fours right, fours left, and left foot into line. And then the dirty son of a buck, he gives us double time. Oh, it's home, boys, home. It's home we ought to be. Home, boys, home, in the land of liberty. And we'll all be back to Norwich when the sergeant calls the roll." JC: That's wonderful. (laughter) I've heard in some of the oral histories "On the Steps of Old Jackman," but I haven't heard that one before. (Todd laughs) So when you came here with your father, was that during homecoming? RT: Well, homecoming and graduation were the same period of time. It was fascinating to me. It was a cavalry school. They had all kinds of drills that we went to and watched, and prizes were awarded. People loading up the water-cooled submachine guns on horseback and racing around, then taking them down, and putting in ammunition blanks, and firing -- you know, first, second, and third prizes kind of thing. Oh, yeah, that impressed me. Then, of course, the parades were fun to see. But it took about three days to get through graduation and homecoming as a single entity. JC: When you came to Norwich what did you major in? 3 RT: That's an interesting story. As I said, Norwich was having trouble at that time recruiting people, and I got recruited by the president of the university. We met in Boston, and he asked me all the things I was interested in, and to him it looked like I should be an engineer, and he wanted me to take an exam that would carry that forward. Well, I took the exam, and I became an engineer, and about the first part of the second semester I discovered you really had to do the homework. I really didn't like that much, and I wasn't doing very well, so I changed my major to history and economics. I really found that fascinating. JC: Well, tell me about what it was like being a rook here. RT: Yeah, another interesting thing. I was sold on the rook system, and my dad had always talked about it. When he brought me up here, people would drop off their suitcases, and go right out onto the parade ground, and start being ordered around by the corporal. I thought that was great. I never seemed super. But I didn't have many followers on that. I was very anxious that my father leave, and get out of there, and go home, and I convinced him to do that. But after, oh, maybe a month the class, who had elected class officers by that time, called a class meeting, and we all got together -- I've forgotten where now. "We got to stop this. We got to tell these guys we're not going to put up with this nonsense. We've got to show our power." I stood up and said, "Gentlemen, this isn't what we want to do. We want to put up. We want to show him we can do it," and I got booed right off the stage. However, they eventually made me class secretary, so I didn't lose all my friends that day. (laughs) JC: Now let's talk about post-war Norwich, because you did say there's kind of a bust. There isn't as many people. RT: Yeah, I think we had 200 in our class, and there was no really classes of Bubbas. Norwich toward the end of the war, when they were really desperate to get money to pay salaries to the faculty, had a high-school level. I think it was two years, the high-school level, and many people went into that and came up here, and that toward the end made some income for the university. But what it did for us, as an incoming class of freshmen, we had our officers, lieutenants, who were younger than we were, but they'd been here two years. You know, that didn't sit over very well either. That was difficult. JC: And the cavalry was still here at that time. RT: It was, yeah, for the first two years of my term and tenure at Norwich, at that point. JC: What do you remember about the horse cavalry? RT: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Well, let's just put it this way. The first person I visited in Northfield when I came back as president was my old sergeant [Kenoyer?], who we hated. He was tough. But on the other hand, we really liked him, and I felt very, very sorry for him, and I really wanted to see him. His son had won entry into West Point, and 4 about two nights before he was to report in he and a bunch of his buddies were in an automobile accident. I think they were hit by a train and killed. Sergeant [Kenoyer?] was never the same after that. He continued to ride horses in the parades in Northfield and that kind of thing. But he was a character. His education was perhaps at the level he was working, taking care of the horses, and taking care of the riding. He was a good man, but, for example, I had a roommate named George Pappas who was scared to death of the horses, and some of the horses knew it. They knew when you were afraid. And old George would step into the stable area, ready to put on the harness, and that old horse would just back him into the wall and lean on him -- oh, you win. Then, of course, [Kenoyer?] would come by and say, "Kick him in the neb with your knee!" Well, no one was going to do that, trapped in there. So George, he decided that he would skip equitation classes, and instead he took 10 demerits for every single class that he was supposed to be at, and he spent his first semester walking around the parade ground on Saturdays carrying a rifle, doing tours. Many things can be said about George. That's a whole other story of absolute wonder. But it was difficult. We only went down once a week actually to use them, but there really wasn't a hell of lot you can learn in one-hour time once a week. But toward the end of the freshman year we were out trotting around in the neighborhoods, etc. I remember one time one of the captains in the Army ROTC program there, officers, Army officers, lead us on a parade, and we went out across the railroad tracks and up into the hills. And on the way back the horses got the idea they themselves would like to jog back to the stables, and we came charging down that hill totally out of control. Some of the horses and men went all the way to downtown before they came under it. I went through the football practice. (laughs) It wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. Now there were some people here, including a classmate by the name of Bob [Bacharat?] [00:13:18] who really was a polo player. He came from Switzerland. I think that's the reason he came to Norwich was to be able to play polo, and we played polo in that time frame with people like Miami who flew their horses up here. Now, I never saw the plane, but we were told all this and a few years earlier, before the war, that Norwich was playing the big colleges and winning. Toward the end of the first year we played something called broom polo, which they'd throw out a basketball on the floor, and then you'd have to hit it with a broom to get it to go to the goal. Those kinds of things were fun to watch. I remember one time George, my roommate, in skipping class went up into the stands, which are on the south end of the hall, but up above in a balcony, and he opened the window and got a snowball, several of them, and put them up there. When somebody would go by, the stove down on the floor -- there were four stoves in that place -- they'd get red hot, but they really didn't make a hell of a lot of difference when the temperature was 30 below or whatever it might have been outside. And the horses, when you'd take them from the stable to the riding hall, would fight you all the way; they didn't want to go out in that cold. But George, on one occasion, dropped snowballs on those red-hot stoves, and you can imagine, they hissed. As the horse went by, this great hiss came out, and the horse would throw the guy, or run for the far -- I went hell bent for election to the far wall. And when he stopped, I went right up onto his neck and was hanging on. Sergeant [Kenoyer?] came over and gave me hell, you know, "You didn't take control of that horse." (inaudible) [00:15:36] There are people lying down all 5 around, and the horses are running around. Well, there's a certain romance in having the horses, so long as you're sitting in the stands watching a polo game. (laughs) JC: Had you ever ridden a horse before? RT: No, never. JC: So you didn't have any experience with horses. RT: Neither did anybody else. Yeah, yeah. They were wonderful animals though, for the most part. JC: Now you said a lot of the people that were there before the war came back after the war to finish up. RT: Mm-hmm. A lot may be too much of an adjective to use, but Alumni Hall was essentially filled with non-married veterans, or veterans who hadn't brought their wives back. Civilian clothes and having nothing to do with the military. The rest of the dormitories were filled with 200 and whatever it was cadets, and the very few upperclassmen like the one I mentioned who came up through the high school route. We didn't have a lot to do with them, and they were very serious about their studies in the classrooms, very serious about their studies. The fraternization took place after the first of the year when we could go into a fraternity house, and I remember the older veterans -- older, 22 maybe -- who were in Theta Chi, where I was, were a remarkable bunch of people and very, very much appreciated. They didn't always come to dinner with us, but they were in the house and participated with it. They ranged all the way from a parachutist in Europe to a lieutenant colonel in the air force. So that's a big gap. But they were great guys who made fraternity life reasonable. JC: Well, tell me about Theta Chi. Why did you choose that one? RT: Oh, yeah, the same old story, the same reason I came here. My dad was a Theta Chi. Why, of course that's what I'd do. This is my father's fraternity, you know. JC: So what were the fraternities like? RT: They weren't too bad. When General Harmon eliminated them, I thought it was the right thing to do, because there weren't fraternities at other military colleges. And when they were started I really believe they were very useful. They were much more an eating club, and since there wasn't a mess in the university in the 1850s. If you look into some of the old records you'll see at graduation time they invited the alumni back to have dinner, and they had dances. They had inter-fraternity baseball and football, etc. We were trying at my time, in my fraternity, to replicate that. It wasn't perhaps as successful as it might have been. It was great fun to beat SigEp in baseball or something. But it was a different part of the university. I remember one time when I was a corporal, and one of the men in the rank under me, in the barracks, was in the fraternity. We get down to the fraternity, 6 and he would give me a hard time for giving him a hard time. It wasn't what I thought it should be, but it was a good time. I mean, don't misunderstand me. Well, it was a fraternity. (laughs) The girls came in by train, if they were away. Carol came up several times on a train to spring break, or a winter carnival, and that kind of thing. That was good sport to have a place where we could party. There was no drinking - baloney, there wasn't. (Coates laughs) I remember one time we were having lunch, and one of the seniors, one of the veterans that had come back, was the president of the house, and he said, "Our Theta Chi member on the faculty, old Professor Woodbury, is going to be our chaperone for the party. Does anybody know Professor Woodbury?" "I know Professor Woodbury. My father told me about him. I've met him once." He said, "Good. You and your date will sit in the living room with the Woodburys while we're down in the basement drinking." (laughter) It wasn't much fun that night. We had the bars hidden behind sliding doors, or doors that pulled down, and all this kind of stuff, so if we got word that there was someone from the faculty coming we could close it up and all sit down, smile, and look like there was no alcohol in the place. JC: Can you tell me a little bit about winter carnival and some of the dances that you all had? RT: They were good sport. Much of the fun though centered around the fraternity at that time. Yes, of course we went to the dance, etc., but before going to the dance we probably went to the fraternity, and certainly after the dance we went to the fraternity, and that was really good sport. In my senior year my roommate, Rollin S. Reiter, from Ohio decided that in his fraternity they were going to have a special Christmas party. Now, it didn't make an awful lot of sense, because it was right at exam time. We took exams right in that time frame, so he really had to work to get these guys. They were going to do it in tuxedoes, not in our uniforms, so that slowed it down a little, too. But one of the guys, Chubby Jordan, who has since passed away, he was a brigadier general in the Massachusetts National Guard later on, an ex-marine. He didn't want to go do it, so they convinced him that he had to do it, and they would get him a date. When he went to the fraternity house, he was introduced to the worst looking girl in the place, and he immediately started drinking beer and avoiding her and all this. It wasn't even the girl they were going to match him up with, and they just were teasing him something awful. When he got very sleepy they put him on the pool table, laid out flat like in a mortuary and put two lit candles, one at either end of him on the pool table. It was a sight for sore eyes. (laughs) JC: I bet it was. Now you were on the rook committee while you were there? RT: Yeah. In my sophomore year I was the head of the rook committee, elected by the class. During the summer period of time I had to get together with the printers and the university and go through this business. There were big posters that said "Beware, Rook, Beware," and then they listed all the things down. We'd get them printed up here by John Mazuzan down in the Northfield Press, and then we'd sell them to the rooks at $1 apiece. I don't know what we did with the money, in the class coffers I guess. Yeah. I remember that President Dodge, who had no military experience previous, but was a very, very well known scientist and had been the dean of one of the big Midwestern schools in that area, 7 he was brought in by some hefty people on the board of trustees. He didn't fit. He didn't understand us. He was a great academic and did some very fine things for the university. But he called me in one day, as head of the rook committee, and said, "When will this period end?" This was right after supper. I said to him, "Sir, it's very clear. It's right on the chart." He said, "I want it to end at Thanksgiving." I said, "Sir, I don't think you're talking to the right guy. You should really be talking to the commandant of cadets, your left-hand man." He said, "Well, I don't know if I can convince him," and I thought, oh, my God, what have we got here, you know. (laughter) He was a fine gentleman, but the minute it was possible for the alumni to discover that General Harmon might be available, in May of my senior year, Dodge was gone. The alumni just -- it wasn't working the way they wanted to see it work. JC: So Harmon was not president any of the time that you were here? RT: His inauguration was held at the same time as my graduation. It was one thing. He had been here for maybe a month, and I remember that we had a football banquet, and they invited General Harmon to come. And he stood up and told us all that he had been here as a cadet, and he had come back in 1935 as the commandant of cadets, and he loved and understood this university, and he was going to make it famous, you know, kind of, "Yeah!" Just the kind of story we needed. Then he told us a story that just curdled me. It was a dirty story. I'd never heard some guy stand up in a dinner and tell a dirty story. It sort of surprised me. He had that reputation. As a matter of fact, one time later in my career, when I was in the army, I was asked by my boss if I would go back to Hamilton, Massachusetts, where I had lived at one time and see Mrs. George Patton, and tell her that her son-in-law -- as a brigadier general -- was about to be sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky. He was married to one of Patton's daughters, and he is now a bachelor. I was to go with three sets of quarters' plans and say, "Which of these, General, would you choose, because we at Fort Knox can now get the house painted up and ready for you, and all this kind of stuff ahead of time?" Well, Mrs. Patton agreed. When the time actually came general orders was late in his itinerary and couldn't be there, so she said, "Why don't you and Carol just come to dinner, and we'll talk about this? I will pass your message to Johnny when he comes through next week, and your leave is over." So that was just fine. But we had a quiet period in that Mrs. Patton was at one end of a long table, and I was at the other end, and Carol was in the middle, and there was a little old maid with a bonnet on her head, and an apron moving around quietly around the room. Everything went silent, and I said, "I can handle this." I said to Mrs. Patton, "Mrs. Patton, do you happen to know General Harmon?" And she said, "Indeed, I do, Russell, and he's a very disgusting man." (laughter) Now as it turns out, she gave an award right after that, she gave an award at Norwich of a similar pistol of General Patton's famous (inaudible) [00:29:38] to the leading cadet. But she was clear. (laughter) JC: Yeah, I've heard stories about General Harmon. RT: He did a great job. He stayed too long, but he did a great job. 8 JC: Well, what clubs were you in when you were here at Norwich? RT: Yeah, I went out for football. I'd come from a little school in Wenham, Massachusetts, where we played six-man football, and if one guy was sick, it didn't look like we were going to play, you know, kind of thing. I went out for football in Beverly High School, and that was danger. I mean, I wasn't up to that. When we got to Norwich I said, "I'm going back out for football. This looks like --" They were mostly freshmen. There were some veterans that came back, and there were some very good veteran players who came back but weren't interested in playing football. They wanted to study and have a family life. So Norwich had a terrible football team during that period of time. About the second day of practice Joe Garrity, who'd been a friend of my dad's who I had known, put his arm on my shoulder as we walked back to the locker room and said, "I've got a job for you." And I thought to myself, I'm going to be quarterback for the freshman team. And he said, "You're my manager, how about that?" and I said, "Oh, OK." Later in life, when I became president, the alumni director here, Dave Whaley, took me out to visit various alumni clubs. In Chicago a fellow named Hale Lait, who played football and was co-captain in his senior year, started to walk up to us, and Dave says, "Mr. Lait, do you know General Todd?" Hale Lait says, "Shit, he used to wash my jock." (laughter) And it was true! We had a big laundry over there. JC: Were you in any other clubs while you were here? RT: Yeah, I'd have to think upon it. We had an international relations club that I became president of at some point of time under -- oh, come on, his name is skipping me. I'll come back to it. But we brought I people to speak on the issues, and then Norwich formed an alliance with the other colleges where we were all working together, and that was sort of fun working that out. Oh, incidentally, when I was manager for the freshman team I had to write all the letters to the other schools and make all the arrangements, all that kind of thing. It sort of surprised me that the university wasn't doing that; the athletic department wasn't doing that. JC: Did you have a favorite professor when you were here? RT: Yeah, and I just told you I couldn't remember his name. (laughter) Sidney Morse. JC: Oh, OK. RT: Old Sidney Morse was a terrible lecturer, but he was a genius, you know. He understood American history, and that was his forte, and he also was a wonderful human being and understood us. He really got me to dig in and start getting decent grades. He would lecture, but he would have side comments on this thing, and there we are taking notes left and right. I never wanted to miss a class under any circumstances. He invited some of us -- one of them being me -- over to dinner, and he was just a great sport. He was not a big man in stature, but a big man in intellect. JC: Was there a professor you particularly didn't like? 9 RT: Oh, there were some who I'd rather not name who I didn't appreciate or think that they were at the level they should be. JC: What was the favorite class you ever took here? RT: I guess it was history. That's what I worked at. Let me go back to what I didn't like. We lost -- somehow, I don't know how -- one of the economics professors, and President Dodge brought in somebody in mid-semester, and this guy had written many books and was well appreciated around the world, but he was terrible. He couldn't remember any names, he refused to take any attendance, so people didn't come. You could answer him back and forth. I was told, I can't vouch for this, I was told by the people that say they did it. They invited him out the night before his final exam to join them for dinner in Montpelier, and when the time came, they picked up the tip, and went down to the railroad station, and put him on a train going to Montreal. (laughter) I believe it was true. But he just wasn't accustomed to teaching at our level in that circumstance. He was someone that should have continued writing his books. He was essentially a sociologist, but that was a while. I got called in by the dean for skipping class, and the dean was a great guy at that time. I was a little embarrassed by it, but the class was mostly veterans in this particular -- in economics. You know, they had their way. They weren't required to come to class. If they didn't come to class it chalked up one of a series you could have freer, but cadets didn't have that, so I just played like I was a veteran to old Mumbles [McLeod?]. That's what they called him, Mumbles. When the dean called me in, I got right back on it. JC: Decided you'd rather go back to class. RT: Yeah. JC: Did you ever get in much trouble when you were here? RT: Not really. I came close a number of times. Well, let me go back and talk about Carol. Carol and I met one time when we were in about the ninth grade. She was in Beverly, Massachusetts, and we were living in Hamilton, Massachusetts, at the time, and the Congregation youth groups met at a third place, Essex, Massachusetts. There were lots of people of our ages. You know, these groups didn't know each other. And I spotted her. She was -- wow! Wow, yeah. But I never got to speak to her before we broke up and went back. A couple of years later in Beverly High School -- we'd moved to Wenham, and Wenham didn't have a high school, so I went to Beverly High School. Todd with a T and Wyeth with W happened to have lockers opposite each other on the wall, and I said, "My God, there's that girl." I went over and spoke to her, and she invited me to her birthday party, and that'll show it all started with us. But it came to a point in our sophomore year when I had changed from engineering into history and economics. I had to make up some subject material that I didn't get in the first part, and I went to the University of New Hampshire trying to make it up. I went down on the weekend to her house in Beverly, and I stayed with her aunt 10 who lived next door. She was on my team. But Carol when we were -- she said, "Let's stop this tennis game for a minute. I want to talk to you." We walked up to the net, and she said, "You know, I'm through with this relationship. You're never going to be serious about anything you do in your life; you're going to be a perennial sophomore. I want to do more with my life than you are going to do, and this isn't going to work out." OK, I'll show you. I came back and studied like hell for the last two years I was here and sort of caught up. But it was interesting, when I was invited back at graduation time to be the officer who commissions everybody, and at that time the university ordered a master's or a PhD, you know, honorary to the speaker. Loring Hart didn't tell me whether I was supposed to say anything or not, so I had in my pocket a little thing I would say. It went something like this. It is indeed an honor to be here. I represent my classmates in this ceremony, and I'm very proud of the way Norwich is moving. But I would like you to know that 25 years ago, this very day, I received a letter from the committee on academic degrees and standings that read to this effect: "Dear Cadet Todd, The committee has met and has agreed to allow you to graduate (laughs) based on the circumstances that were not your fault." (laughter) So, you know, that's the way life went for me. I dug in and did relatively well. But another interesting thing about that. I don't know about anybody else, but I had a picture in my mind of VMI, and the Citadel, and all these places as being superior to Norwich in their military training, etc. But when I got in the army I discovered that 50% of them were duds, and it just changed my life around and my feelings about my institution. Yeah, it was strange. JC: When you graduated from Norwich what was the first -- you went into the army. RT: Yeah. JC: Did you go straightaway into the army, or was there a period? RT: Well, some of us -- I think it was 12, maybe as many as 15 -- received an opportunity to go into the regular army, not into the reserve army. I was one of those. About half of my classmates who were given that ability to do that chose not to do it, so there were a number of us that went. Upon graduation we received our commission in the United States Army Reserve, and then two weeks later I was brought into the regular army with another commissioning thing, which happened to be by my father's Norwich roommate, Colonel [Rice?] in Boston. He was running something in Boston for the army at the time. That was sort of fun. Then I went immediately off. We graduated about 15 or 17 May or something, June rather. On the second day of July, I reported in to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment Light at Fort Meade, Maryland, as one of these people you had a regular army commission. So there wasn't any time -- there was time enough in between that the family all went down to Cape Cod for a two-week vacation, but I graduated and went into the army. JC: Now did you get married before you were in the army? 11 RT: No, no. No, no. I was still trying to get back in Carol's good graces. Before I left -- well, I went, as I said, to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. Now the army was doing something really stupid at that time. They had been told to reduce the army's personnel requirements, and rather than reducing in any reasonable way, they chose to take one-third of every squad, one-third of every company, one-third of every battalion, one-third of every regiment. It was a paper army. It couldn't really operate well at all. But when the war broke out in Korea they took from those drawn-down forces and sent them over as individual replacements, supposedly to go into units that also had the same kind of vacancy that was created now. So we had almost no reasonable training while I was in the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment before going to Korea, and these people went into units for which they were not trained. The army was really messed up, really messed up. General Abrams one time in discussing this with a group of officers, after he'd become chief of staff of the army, had tears running down his face. "No army should ever do that to its people. There is no excuse for it, and as long as I'm chief of staff I guarantee you that our units will be ready to fight, if we have to fight." You know, oh. It was a terrible mess over there. So before leaving that unit in which I had a miserable career for that short period of time. For example, it wasn't two weeks later that the post's military police battalion left Fort Meade and went to Korea. Company A of my organization, of which I was a lieutenant, became the post's military policemen. Now, we know nothing about being the post's military policemen, not a thing. There wasn't anything in ROTC, there wasn't anything that lead us to believe. What I knew about policing was I'd seen in movies, and I hid behind the "Welcome to Fort Meade" sign in my sedan, and chased down someone that was speeding, and discovered it was the chief of staff of the post. At midnight I went over and had a bed check in the post's prison, to see that there weren't any knives in there. But I got called in and said, "Hey, come on, get off it. You can go to jail for what you're doing," you know. (laughs) It was crazy. I was trying to do my job as I knew it, but no one was there to supervise me in any way. JC: And how long were you doing that? RT: I left there in September. I went in in July, left in September, and got to Korea in late November, first having leave and then going to the West Coast, going through the checks and balances of travel over there. Just about that time MacArthur announced that the war would be over by Christmas, and as a result the army slowed down the number of replacements they were sending over. This was just about the time that the marines invaded Inchon, and it was followed up with the 7th Division behind them, and trapped the North Vietnamese soldiers below us. It was really a magnificent maneuver. So we were just sitting around in California waiting to get orders. Every weekend we'd go into town, and we'd go into some bar and then talk out loud about how we've got to go, and waiting to go to war, this kind of thing. Somebody would pick up the bar tab. (laughs) Then we crossed the Pacific during a hurricane, and that was something most unusual, as you might imagine. The piano broke loose in the lounge. It had been a troop transport in World War II, and they converted it to be a troop ship but for families to go to Japan or other places. At that time these ships were the property of the army, it wasn't the navy. 12 I remember distinctly there was a captain on board, mostly lieutenants, but this captain on board was a ranger, and he'd a big, puffed-up chest, and walked among us, and told us to stand up straight, and "Take your hands out of your pockets." When he'd get tired of doing that he decided we should have bayonet drill, and issued the bayonets, put them on our rifles, and went up on the deck. Oh, God. I said, "I'm not playing this game." There was a ladder still going up the funnel, in wartime where they had a station to look for submarines, OK. I went up there while everybody else was screaming and hollering down below and got away with it. It's a wonder I ever went anywhere in the army. (laughs) JC: So what was Korea like? RT: Well, let me describe it. We arrived the day before Thanksgiving in Inchon, got off the boat. There was a long, long tidal process; the ship couldn't get close to the docks or anything else. So they threw the nets over the side, and we were to go over the side of the ship and climb down into a small boat to go in. But we had all our personal gear with us. We were carrying great bags of stuff. I had two bottles of whiskey in my bag, and some damn fool says, "Drop your bag into the boat." I did. (laughs) But as a matter of fact, they took our uniforms away from us at that time and said, "We will hold them here, because if everybody goes home at Christmas it won't affect you for a while, and you'll be in a regular army uniform." But we got on the boats and went on the shore. They fed us what was left over from the Thanksgiving dinner, and a lot of canned fruits, put us on a train, and sent us up to North Korea. Each of us, each lieutenant, was on an open freight car, you know, enclosed but with doors on both sides, and each one of them had a little stove in it. It was cold, and we headed north, and every time the hospital train came south on that one track we would pull over maybe an hour before it came by, and then stick around and get back onto the thing. In my one car I had 27 people. Those cars were small. They were Japanese-style freight cars, and they were small. We had nothing but straw on the floor and a sleeping bag, but it was a summer sleeping bag, not a winter sleeping bag, and the stove didn't really heat the thing at all. There were slots in the side of the thing. Anyway. We didn't have any ammunition, and we would get shot at on the train. Now, nobody I know of got hit, but it made quite an impression. But still they didn't issue us any ammunition. There was a major in charge, and he was in the last car, which was a caboose kind of car, tight, a good stove, etc., etc. So whenever the train stopped we as lieutenants would run back and sit in his car with him and then take off again. Many of the soldiers would get off and run in to find somebody in the little town we stopped in and buy rot-gut whiskey. Boy, they were in trouble. One of the people in the car behind me, I was told, went blind on the spot. Maybe he was cured later, but it made an impression. We finally got to the capital of Pyongyang, and they put us on trucks and took us to what used to be a hospital. We went on about the fourth floor and were on cots, or on the floor, kind of thing, and at midnight that night some captain in the army came in and said, "OK, everybody out. Get down on the truck below. Let's go. Get your gear together." Well, we all didn't get there first, and the last of us were turned around and sent back. That batch was never heard from again. The next morning we were loaded on trucks and sent up. But before going they fed us a good breakfast. We went down into 13 the basement of this place -- it was steaming and dark down there -- and we had breakfast on some slate or granite tables. Steam is pouring out of the coffee pots, etc., and I filled my cup with coffee and took a big drink to discover that it was maple syrup. I went forward that day sick as a dog, sitting at the end, at the tail of that truck yurking all the way. I'm sure all those men I was traveling with, "Look hey there, look at that lieutenant. He's so scared he's puking," you know. We went on and eventually we came to a stop, and the captain who was leading this convoy came back and told us to get off the trucks and go into these schoolhouses that were available, right immediately, I mean, just saw them and said, "Take them." We went into the schoolhouse, and he turned around and went back to get "another load," quote, unquote. We never saw him again; he never came back. Here we are with no ammunition, carrying guns, living in a schoolhouse, and the Chinese are moving in on us. They were moving down the mountains on both sides of this thing, and then there was a tremendous, tremendous loss of life up the mountain further, coming toward us. The 38th Regiment that I joined after we got out -- I get the men out, and then I jumped on a mess truck headed south, all trying to find where the headquarters for the 38th Regiment was. The 38th Regiment was part of the 2nd Division, and it lost in about two days, coming through a real tight trap -- there was a river, there was a road that wasn't wide enough for two tanks to pass, and then there was a mountain again on the other side, and the Chinese are up on both sides just raking the convoy. One truck stops, you know, they've got to push it off the edge to get the convoy going again. Now I wasn't a part of that, but I joined the company that did, and when I finally caught up with my unit, it was because I had stopped in from the schoolhouse when I saw the 1st Cavalry Division people pull on in close to us, so I went over and inquired. I walked into the TOC, the tactical operation center, and there was a major sitting in front of a map, on a stool, making little marks on it. I waited a while, and he didn't notice me, and finally I said, "Sir, could you tell me where the 38th Regiment is?" and he turned around and said, "No, but where's the division? Where is the 2nd Division?" I said, "Sir, I have no idea. We're trying to find it. We were left off down here." He said, "I don't know where they are. If you --" It was that confusing. They lost something like 4,000 men coming out of that gap. Now, I wasn't affected, not at all, in any way. I was scared to death at times, but then after that I joined the 38th Regiment. When I went in to meet Colonel Pappal -- yeah, something like that -- he shook hands with one, and passed me a bottle of whiskey with the other one, and said, "Son, you're going to need this." I reported in to the battalion commander, and he at the time was meeting with his staff in a little hutch where the Vietnamese -- the Vietnamese -- the Koreans built their houses of mud and mud brick, and they would cook in an open room attached to the house, and the smoke would go under the floors and heat the house. We were sitting on one of those floors, warm and toasty, and they were passing the bottle of whiskey around this circle as we talked about (inaudible) [00:59:47]. By that time the bottle of whiskey got pretty hot. (laughs) It was a very strange circumstance. When he finally got to it, the battalion commander said to me, he said, "Todd, you're going down to A Company." I said, "Sir, and who commands A Company?" He said, "You do." I had about as much opportunity to learn infantry tactics and lead a rifle 14 company as nobody at all. My buddy who I was traveling with who had some experience in World War II in combat in Europe, came back and went to the University of Illinois, and then came into the army the same as I did, through the (inaudible) [01:00:34], he was sent down to a company that already had an experienced commander. You know. Nobody was thinking. I sent the first sergeant back to division headquarters, he got commissioned, and he came back, and essentially he told me what we ought to be doing. Then we did it. Until MacArthur issued an order, that probably came to him to do it, that said all armored officers that had been assigned to infantry units are to be returned to armored units. So I went down to the regimental tank company of the regiment where my company commander, before coming over there, was an infantry officer who was aide to camp to the commanding general who gave him the tank company in the 38th regiment who didn't know a damn thing about tanks. It was really screwed up everywhere. At a point when I was running the rifle company, I was told that a replacement was on the way, flying in, and he would replace me as company commander. Oh, great, that's good news. The guy showed up, and during World War II he had been in the air force as a bombardier. He had absolutely no infantry experience. He had joined the nearest reserve unit to his home when he was discharged. It really wasn't working out. Where we got replacements, the adjutant would go down and say, "Has anybody been through armored training?" Nobody. Nobody. So there wasn't anybody to send to the armored company except the people that came in (inaudible) [01:02:41]. So we were training these guys, but we weren't -- there were some old sergeants that really knew what they were doing, and that's we made. We eventually had a pretty good tank company. I remember my sergeant was a gruff, old son of a bitch. I walked up to a formation he was holding one day, and his back was to me, and I was walking toward the platoon. And I heard him say "The kid says we got to --" I said uh-oh. "Sergeant [Beach?], come with me," and we went in to see the company commander. I told the company commander that I couldn't resolve this one. He said, oh, very well, I'll assign someone else." Sergeant [Beach?] remained behind. Wow, I've done it. Sergeant Beach comes out. I said, "What happening Sergeant?" and he said, "I'm going to be the lieutenant in charge of the other platoon." Ahhh, God, you know. (laughs) It just wasn't the army I knew later on. Yeah. It was a very sad arrangement. It really wasn't until General Walker was killed in a jeep accident, and he was the 8th Army commander, and they sent General Van Fleet over to run it, and we by that time had moved 125 miles to the rear. We were running as an army. Word got out very quickly that General Van Fleet's orders were "I don't want to see your plans of defense, I want to see your plans of attack." And everyone says, "Sure, sure, General. You look at them, and you'll be all alone up there." Well, by God, he took that army and straightened it out and moved it forward and stopped the Chinese, without much additional support. It was amazing to see that happen. I'll never forget that, that one man deciding that he's going to turn the army around and you'd better fall in line. I did have one experience before that happened when I was with the tank company, and I was in a jeep riding down a road, and the division commander had decided that since we had all these losses, and we're all screwed up, that he had a way to make us all feel proud of ourselves and identify. The methodology he used was that one regiment would have a mustache, another regiment would have sideburns, and another 15 would have goatees. Crazy, just crazy. But I'm driving down the road, and an assistant division commander, a one star, is coming this way, and he went right by, and I saluted, and then he stopped and hollered back at me. I jumped out and ran down to his jeep. He said, "You're not obeying the division commander's orders." I said, "Sir, what do you mean?" He said, "You shaved." I said, "No, sir, I've never shaved." (laughter) God. Yeah. But General Van Fleet really pulled that into order, and he relieved a lot of people. He relieved my brigade commander, gave us a lieutenant to be the colonel's slot in the brigade, who turned out to wind up with four stars in the end. They made the mechanism work. JC: Amazing. Now, you were awarded the Medal for Valor in Korea, weren't you? RT: Yeah. I got a Bronze Star for Valor and a Silver Star for Valor, neither of which I really want to talk about much. I think somebody else would have done better to have them than me. I mean, I was pleased, happy to receive it, proud to wear it on my uniform kind of thing, but there was a lot of that going on to bolster up morale of everybody. JC: Is there anything else you want to say about Korea? RT: I don't know. At the end it was a pretty good experience. When we had gone into a stalemate, we started a rotation system back to the United States, and it was a point system. If you came within a certain period of time, then you could go back at a date specific, so we all knew when we'd be going back. There were points for the kind of job you had and all this kind of thing. It was interesting, I went back to Japan, spent a few days in Japan. When we got on the boat I was assigned -- as I had on the way over -- to a large stateroom, and I think there were 12 of us in it, and up and down cots. It was the same gang I went over with. You know, the timeline of where you engaged in combat were the same for all of us, in different units, and that was really pretty special. Two of them, only two of them, didn't come back, and they were both infantry officers. To the best of my knowledge, from the 38th Regiment that I was familiar with, the lieutenants didn't go back whole. The majority of them were killed. Those that were wounded were wounded seriously enough that they didn't come back to the unit. So it was us armored guys that, essentially, came back together, went over together and came back together. Stopped in Hawaii on the way back, pulled into the port, and there's all these hula girls down on the thing, people with big signs, "Welcome Home, Veteran." I said, "Hell, I'm not a veteran. That's a guy that sits outside the post office trying to sell pencils." (laughs) That came as a bit of a shock to us. But, yeah. JC: Well, once you got back to the United States where were you stationed? RT: Before I got back to the United States, on R&R in Japan, I knew of my rotation date. I called Carol, who by that time had finished her year after Smith at Radcliffe, taking the first year of the Harvard Business School program at Radcliffe -- business school faculty, business school-devised location, Radcliffe. I called her and said, "How about meeting me in New York City on such and such a date at the Biltmore Hotel? We'll meet under the clock." Now, meeting under the clock, there'd been a movie about that whole 16 business. So she did, and we went to my family's house. They'd moved to Scarsdale, New York, at that point. I asked her to marry me. She said, "Give me a couple of weeks." So I went back to visit my family. They're not my immediate family, my grandparents in Quincy, Massachusetts, and my other grandparents in Dorchester, Massachusetts. I went to -- my uncle, my mother's brother, ran a hardware store that had originally been his father's, and he said, "What are you going to do about a car?" I said, "I got to get one." I sold my car before I went over. He said, "Well, I've got a good friend who's honest, and I think we can get a good car." So I went over that afternoon and bought a car and called Carol, and I said, "I bought a car today." She said, "A convertible?" and I said, "Yes," and turned it in the next day and got a convertible. (laughter) I'd do anything to make sure she's sweet. She said yes, we were married on the nineteenth of June of that year, and she obviously had to quit her job to become an army wife. JC: So where did you all go after that? RT: The first station when we returned, and I'm talking now about the same group of army officers that went over and came back together, also went to Fort Knox, and we lived in newly-built quarters that were built by a civilian contractor on the edge of there, which were great for a newly-married couple, but they certainly weren't anything special. George and Joanne Patton lived next door to us, a small world, yeah. I've lost my train of thought here now. (break in audio) JC: And we'll get back started. All right, so we were talking about Fort Knox. RT: Fort Knox being a first assignment together in the army was really great. So different. I mean, Fort Knox was organized. Everything was working well. People were happy. Not that we weren't working hard, because we really were. My first assignment was to a training division. It took the number of the division, the third, and replicated it and then trained, basic training. I was in the 2nd Brigade headquarters working on the planning and that kind of thing. I really was disappointed that I wasn't one of the company commanders, but it turns out that that was a tough job. In the tank company, the guy that headed the tank company had more tanks than a tank division, and it was a mess to keep them all straightened out and going around. So one day I went back home for lunch, and Mrs. George Patton, Sr., was sitting in the living room of our house talking to Carol. She had come down to Fort Knox because George and Joanne had just been married, and Joanne got some kind of disease when they were on the honeymoon in the Caribbean. And I reintroduced myself to Mrs. Patton, and we sat down and talked. She asked me what my job was, and I told her. I said, "But I've got to go. I've got an appointment this afternoon to see the commanding general. They're looking for an aide to camp to the commanding general, and I really don't want that job. I really would prefer to get an opportunity to command a company in the division here." She said, "Russell, General Collier is a very, very fine man. He has a 17 fine family life. He is a very, very successful soldier who commanded the 2nd Armored Division at the end of the war in Berlin. You could learn an awful lot working for him." So I went over, and I got the job, and for the next two years I was the junior aide to the commanding general. I did such things as travel with him when he went to different places for different purposes. My buddies all got a hold of me when they found out I was going to do this job, and all had things they wanted changed at Fort Knox, and I was to be their agent in telling the commanding general how he could change the place. Very early on we went out of the headquarters, down the steps, into the car, went past the post theater. I thought, well, here goes. I said, "Sir, do you realize that on this post now an officer must be in his full dress uniform in order to go to the movies?" He said, "Yes, I know that, and it will remain that way." I didn't have many new ideas for him after that. (laughs) He'd go over to the armor school, and the people that are teaching in the combat kinds of business would say, "This is what we're doing now, General, and what do you think? We'd like your approval of it," and I'd sit in the back of the room and listen to what was going on, and understand it. I would hear the people that had served in combat talk about what you ought to do, and I got a great education. Also, every year there was something called the Armor Warfighting Conference. Twice I was there for that. They bring in all the people that belong to the Armor Association, or were serving in an armored position, all the senior people, and they'd talk about what the army ought to be doing in armor. One of my jobs was to go into the airport in the general's big sedan and his chauffer and pick these guys up and drive them back to the post, and I'd chat with these guys, and it was really fun. I got to know an awful lot of people, army commanders, army staff members, and all this. I really felt pretty special that I'd had this kind of an opportunity. Then we also had at Fort Knox in that time frame an armor board. This armor board, when General I. D. White was the commander at Fort Knox -- before General Collier -- that the chief of staff of the army was not pleased with the way the chief of ordnance was managing the tank program and gave the responsibility to the commanding general at Fort Knox. All the bigwigs gathered at Fort Knox to make decisions about what the next tank would look like, what the next armored personnel carrier would look like, etc., etc. Again, I sat in the back of the room, and young captains and majors, most of them West Point graduates who'd gone off to graduate school and were coming back and using their talents. It was a great, great opportunity for me. We were always invited to the house when the Colliers were having a party, and people would say, "Oh, you're going over there and pass the cigarette butts around with them, aren't you?" "No, we don't do that. We're part of that group." Mike Popowski here in town, his dad was one of those colonels on the post at that time. I really got to know all those people. Not that it was doing me any good, but I learned from them, you know. I learned how to act, I learned when to shut up. It was very useful, and it was a great time. The Colliers were magnificent to us. We had a child while we were living there -- it was Tom, and Tom got burnt badly in an accident at our house. He was crawling across the floor, and there was a coffee pot that started percolating, and he looked up and pulled on the cord, and it came over and broke open on his back. The Colliers came over and relieved us of our 24-hour duty, and they took it over; they sat with that baby. We were their family. It was amazing; it was wonderful. 18 Yeah. I began to really understand what the army was about, that it could be a good army. JC: Well, after Fort Knox where did you go? RT: Let's see. Oh, yeah. When General Collier left, he was to be promoted and going to go to Korea, and he offered me the opportunity to go with him, and I told him that I would much prefer to have a tank company in Europe. While I loved the guy and his family, I wanted a tank company in Europe. He said, "We'll take care of that," and he called up the commanding general of the 2nd Armored Division in Europe, the one that they call Chubby Doan, and told him the situation and that I would be on orders to go over to the 2nd Armored Division and a tank company. He said, "I'll give him a tank company." So, wow! You know, we made it, and off we go to Europe. We pull into Bremerhaven, which is the northern port in Germany, and they send forth a little craft to meet the boat. A sergeant first class climbs up the rope ladder and comes over and starts telling people what their orders are going to be, and I was ordered to something called the 13th Military Intelligence Group. I thought, oh, my God, something's wrong here. The colonel who was in charge of us all on the boat, for the boat trip, he got his orders, and he opened it up, and it's the 13th MIG. He said, "What's an MIG?" I said, "The best I know it's a Russian airplane." (laughs) It turned out that he thought he was going to the 1st Infantry Division for a regiment. Well, we got off the boat, and both of us went down to this intelligence group, went through two different fences, guards posted in towers and all the rest of it, and slept in an open bay area over the officers' club. There were a number of other offices there, and they said, "What are you going to do?" I said, "I don't know. I'm here by mistake. I'm headed to the 2nd Armored Division." They said, "No, no, you aren't. We're all in the same business, fellow. Tell us where you're going." And I said, "No, no. I'm an officer, and I'm going to --" They said, "We understood an armored officer was coming, and he was going to go underground and behind the Iron Curtain, and report on the Russian movements." Holy Crow! That's not for me. So the next morning I went down and asked authority to see the commanding officer of the 513th [sic] MIG. He spoke with me, and he said, "No, you're going down. You're not going to do that; that's rumor. You're going down to the headquarters in Heidelberg, and you're going to be an intelligence officer in that headquarters." I said, "I'm not an intelligence officer." He said, "That's your orders." OK. So I went down to Heidelberg. General Jim Phillips was the G2 at the time, and I asked to see him, and I went right up to his office and told him my sad story, that I was going to go to the 2nd Armored Division -- and he was an armored officer -- "Now here I am an untrained specialist in your department." He said, "What were you going to do?" I said, "Well, General Doan in the 2nd Armored Division had accepted me to come and be in tank company." He says, "I'll talk to him about that," and he reached over -- they had a red phone system that red phones went to the different generals in different locations -- he picked it up and dialed 27 or whatever it was, and General Doan answers the phone, and I'm sitting there. He said, "I got a young captain sitting here that tells me he's supposed to be in the division. Tell me about him, what are you going to do with him?" Well, poor old General Doan hadn't remembered much about the phone conversation a couple of 19 months before or something, and said, "Well, I'm going to make him my aide." And he said, "Like hell you are. I'm keeping him here for that." (laughs) I did it all over again for another two years in the headquarters at [Usera?]. [01:26:32] It was a great experience. General and Mrs. Phillips were a mother and dad to us; they'd invite us to Sunday dinner, and little Tom would crawl around the floor or under the table, and General Collier would feed him peanuts or something. It was a wonderful time, and when the Colliers would take a trip and borrow the commander in chief's train, we went with them. It was marvelous. I saw all of Europe. I knew most everything that was going on in the intelligence field, and it was a great experience with wonderful people. But when he got assigned to go back to the United States, I took the Colliers up to the port to put them on. When I came back, this again on the commander in chief's train, I had the train stop in Mannheim, and I got off in Mannheim. I wasn't going to be stopped again and reported in to the 57th Tank Battalion and for the last year there had a tank company. That was probably the greatest experience of my life. It really was a good experience. We were hard training, we were well trained, good people. In the beginning we had a wonderful commander who was a major, and the division commander, General Doan, didn't want to put a lieutenant colonel in that slot. He wanted this man to get that experience, but eventually they had to pull him and let -- the lieutenant colonels were backing up. So we were out maneuvering and we came to the last day of the maneuvers, and the new battalion commander arrives, and we have this party in a beer hall. The new commander arrives, and one of the company commanders in Charlie Company walked up to the head table with two boots of beer. You know what that is? Glass things that replicate a boot. Big. He puts one in front of each of the two commanders and says, "Let's see who's the better man." This poor guy that has just got off the train coming down from Bremerhaven and crossed the ocean picks up his boot and starts to drink. The battalion commander we love drinks it down and wins the contest, and the new battalion commander was so tight from drinking that beer too fast his feet slipped out from under him as he sat at that table and went right down under the table. (laughter) That was his first day of duty, and he didn't improve much after that. We were all pretty cocky, the company commanders; we were doing a lot of good things. But he knew nothing about it. We told him -- we were told that he had served in a tank battalion in World War II, and that's all we knew about him. It sounded great to us, a guy with some real experience. Well, it turns out that he reported in to a replacement company, and they said, "Take this truckload of men and go forward to point A. There will be a sign on the road at so many miles or kilometers. Turn left in there, and that's where your unit will be." Well, he got down there and made the turn, then went up, and three Germans come out and say, "Achtung! Put him in the compound!" and he went directly to the prisoner-of-war camp. He never had any experience. He'd been a public information officer before, and he was terrible. He was so bad that in a morning meeting every time, when he would suggest something the other three company commanders, we'd sort of nod or shake no. And "Well, what's the matter?" You know why? We didn't get any leadership out of him at all. When it came time to leave there, I had probably the most frightening experience in my life. He stood up in front of the entire battalion officer group and said, "Well, now that Captain Todd is leaving maybe I can take command of this battalion." Oh, my God. 20 Oh, my God. He gave me an efficiency report that would sink anybody, but it just turned out that in that moment of time the army changed the efficiency report system whereby your commander rates you, and his boss rates you, and then a third person rates what they did. Well, the third person turns out to have been the fellow that had been recently the brigade commander, and he knew me, he knew my performance, etc., and he sent back the efficiency report to be redone. Ho. (laughs) Yeah. Those were good times though, good times. Scary times, but testing, really testing you. JC: Because you were right there in Germany during really the height of the Cold War. RT: Yeah. As a matter of fact, one time we were out on maneuvers, 200 miles from our base, when the French and British moved into Suez, because the Egyptians said they were taking over the canal. There we are sitting out in the woods saying, "Oh, my God," because the president had said, "Oh, no, you don't." Eisenhower said, "No, you don't. You can't do that. We give you a lot of money to bring your economies back from the war, and we'll stop it tomorrow unless you withdraw." But we didn't know all that, and my guys are saying "We're going to gyro to Cairo," you know, that (laughter) kind of stuff. We finally came back. But if we'd had to go, I haven't seen a unit that would be any more ready than we were. Yeah. It was really a great exper-- In a company command, everybody doesn't have to bypass the battalion commander who's a dud. But when you do have to do that, then you're really thinking on your feet. It was great. JC: What was your next assignment after that? RT: Would you believe back to Fort Knox? JC: Oh, really? RT: Yeah. I went back there to go to the Armor Officer Advanced Course, which was a nine-month course in there, in which they were teaching you at the next level. Now the course we took before at Fort Knox was a course we should have had before we went to Korea. I came away with a great impression of how good that was. It was excellence. When I saw General Collier working with the instructors and telling them how to handle this kind of thing. When I came back three years later, it was a well-organized organization. In fact, General Abrams had been there as the head of the command department. It was a first class education. I really and truly look back upon my Norwich experience as not up to that standard that the army was producing there. At the end of that course I had talked my way into becoming one of the instructors in the command department, and I was thrilled to death about that. On graduation day I'm sitting in my chair on the aisle, and as the assistant commandant went by my seat he stopped and said, "You're going to be working in my office." (laughs) So I then worked for Colonel Chandler, who was a first-rate soldier. He had been horse cavalry, in the Philippines, and was on the Bataan death march. He was really very much a gentleman, very much strong willed, and very much of a tutor, and I worked out of his office. My job was to arrange the schedules of the classes, and we had all kinds of classes -- enlisted classes, officer classes -- so that they would mesh how 21 many people, how many classrooms do we need, how many instructors do we need, on what day are we going to do it? I was bringing home page after page of long paper, and on the kitchen floor working out the details of making this thing work. It was great, but, again, there was an intermediary. There was a lieutenant colonel who was my immediate supervisor who, again, I thought to be a dud. On my first day of working there he said, "That's your desk right over there." And I'm, "Yes, sir." I went over to my desk. Now what do I do? Here I am, I found my desk. There was a major sitting at a desk facing me who never looked up. He was just scribbling away, scared to death of this guy evidently. A few minutes later he came over and said, "Well, here's the first project I want you to do. This is it. I want you to study this, and then rewrite it, and we'll discuss it." Fine. It wasn't five minutes later, he came over and said, "No, I want you to do this one instead." I went through about six of those before I understood what I was doing. I was hopeless that anything was really going to happen. That same day he came over and looked over my shoulder, and I looked up, and he said, "What are you writing there?" I said, "Well, sir, I'm writing myself a note so that I will be able to put these things in the appropriate order." He said, "Well, you're not saying it very well." (laughter) It was awful. My out was Colonel Chandler, and a major got assigned to the office, and he very quickly understood what was going on here and went in and talked to Colonel Chandler, and Colonel Chandler moved him out. Again, we got a very, very fine operating organization going. It was good; it was very successful. But, you know, every time there's some kind of a roadblock in your career, you've got to stop and figure out how the hell you're going to get around it. JC: What was after Fort Knox? RT: Twenty more years of -- let's see. I graduated from Fort Knox. I was selected below the zone for a promotion. Do you know what that means? JC: Uh-uh. RT: When you're considered for promotion a board meets in Washington, and everybody whose career appears between this date and this date is considered. Isn't that right? Well, what they started, and I don't know if they're still doing it or not -- I think they are -- they would go below this zone and choose certain people to be examined with this group, and I was lucky enough to do that and really jumped ahead. In the headquarters there was Major Howard from Norwich University. Major Howard didn't graduate from here, but he was an instructor when I was a student here. He was in another department, or I didn't see much of him. But when I came out on the below-the-zone list, there were two of us at Fort Knox that came out on it, and he called me on the phone, and he said, "Well, I thought Frank would make it, but I never thought you would." (laughter) So things are weird, but Leavenworth was an exciting time. I was a captain. The majority of people were majors and lieutenant colonels. A real shock of my life in the first day was seated at tables, and there's a blank card in front of you, and the instructor said, "Now write your name on it, not your rank. Write your name on that card." Well, the guy sitting opposite me was a lieutenant colonel, and I was a captain, and I don't know his rank. What do I call him? We were all calling each other by their first names 22 rather than you find in a unit. That (inaudible) [01:41:04] like that, I'm up against it here. So I worked hard, harder than I've ever worked, and at the end of the halfway mark in the course they gave us standings of where you stand in the course, and I was number five or something. I said, "I'm working too hard." Yeah, that was good, a good period in our life. We had Saturdays and Sundays off. I had a little golf group I played with on Saturdays, and Michelob beer was local out there. We'd buy a pitcher -- the loser would buy a pitcher of beer, and that was a big deal. That was a big deal. JC: So when did you go to graduate school at the University of Alabama? RT: Strange you should ask that. When I came to the end of the course at Leavenworth a general officer, a brigadier general, came out to the course to announce to the armor officers, to the infantry officers, etc., what your next assignment would be. About the third name he read was a good friend of mine, and when he read off where he was to go this guy went "Ooohhh." The general looked down at him and said, "What's the problem?" He said, "Sir, I don't think anybody in your office ever read my request." "Oh." He said, "Major so-and-so, come out here." The guy comes out from behind the curtain with a big notebook, and the guy flaps through it, and he looks down, and he says, "I don't know what you're complaining about. It says right here, 'Anywhere in the world but Fort Knox.' And you're going to Fort Knox, your second choice." (laughter) Then he got to my name, and he said, "I want to see you right after this." I thought, oh, God, what now? So I went in, and he was in his office. There was a temporary office. And he said, "We've got a problem here," and I said, "Sir, what is it?" He said, "Well, they've got you going to graduate school, and as the chief armor officer I want you to go to an armored unit." I said, "I have a choice?" He said yes. I said, "Where will I go if I go to an armored unit?" He thought for a minute, and he said, "You'll go to the tank battalion in Hawaii." I said, "Can I discuss this with my wife at lunch?" and he said, "Sure," and I came back and said, "We have decided that we're going to go to graduate school," and that's how that worked out. JC: So you went to Tuscaloosa instead of Hawaii. RT: Yeah. (laughs) JC: Now, what degree did you get at Alabama? RT: MBA. It was a good tough course, but it was in the process of changing the curriculum of business schools, and some of it was very tough. Part of it was very simple, but some of it was very tough. I established a schedule where I went in very early in the morning, got in there before 7:00 every morning, went down to the basement of the library where I had an assigned carrel and started working until it was time for a class to begin. I'd go up to the class and go back to the basement, eat my lunch in the basement, go home at 5:00, and hardly ever did any midnight work at home. We lived a good, wonderful family life in Tuscaloosa. Now, it wasn't all easy. There had been the problems of the colleges not admitting blacks, and the president of the United States pushing hard to make them do it. 23 Then there were the riots at Ole Miss, right at that time. The army sent down its chief person who determines whether the applicants will go to college -- army applicants -- and to which college they will go to. So we all gathered, and there were people taking nuclear physics, and [we have to?] discuss with him, and he talked it back and forth, etc. Finally one young captain in the back said, "Sir, this is all very interesting, but the army's practically at war with our citizens. What the hell happen-- What do we do? What are our orders, and what are our instructions here at the University of Alabama, if the same kind of thing breaks out on this campus?" This poor old duffer who'd been the president of some college someplace sort of shook his head and said, "Well, I hope you'd be on the side of the government." (laughter) That hit right in the heart of soldiers. But it was a good program. When I left I was going to be assigned to the headquarters in US Army Europe in the comptroller's office, and you're required to stay in that position for three years to make up for your being chosen for that job. They want to use your knowledge and experience. Just before I left they changed it, and I went to the US Army Support Command in France, which had 57 separate organizations that it commanded, to include a pipeline that came in at St. Nazaire and went out to all of the air bases and army refueling, etc., and repair of tanks, repair of everything. We took German factories over, used Germans. It was a very, very exciting assignment in terms of technology, but I got assigned to the comptroller's office in that damn headquarters, and I was one of three soldiers. The rest were all civilian employees, or French. One of the people that worked for me was from Yugoslavia; he'd escaped Yugoslavia. So it was a mixed up kind of place. We lived at a French house down by the railroad station. We didn't want to live in the government quarters, we'd done enough of that. We wanted to have an experience in France. From that point of view, it was wonderful. The job was terrible, just terrible. They expected me to know everything that they did in their routine because I'd been to this business program. Well, I had to really move fast to catch up with them. My boss was a man by the name of [Birossi?]. He'd been an Italian-American soldier in World War II who married an Italian and never went home, and when they created the support command then he stayed on in Europe and became a very important man in the headquarters as the budget manager of this very vast organization. I worked like hell to try and get it straightened out. They first gave me the responsibility of working the budget of a couple of the major organizations, one the tank rebuild plant, which was -- God, it looked like General Motors out there. I finally got frustrated with it all. We'd all sit in a room, roll out our papers, and bring in the guy, the comptroller, from that organization, and you'd sit facing each other with Mr. [Birossi?] looking over your shoulder, and you'd work out a budget for them. How the hell did I know? I didn't have any basis for doing it, but we'd discuss it to get it. When this was all over and calmed down I said, "This is stupid as hell," to [Birossi?]. He said, "What are you talking about?" And I said, "We've got the world's best information technology program right in this headquarters, those guys that are working the plants do it all by technical means, punch cards, and here we are sitting around trying to argue about a number on a sheet of paper that doesn't mean a damn thing." He said, "What do you suggest?" I said, "I suggest we go to talk to them, get onto their system somehow, and work this thing out that we can make a reasonable stab at it." He said, "OK, wise guy, do it." 24 Now, there was a lieutenant colonel in this overall office who was Birossi's boss, and I went to see him and told him, I said, "Now, I'm not competent to do this. There's no question about it. However, if you give me two of those young captains of finance that work down the hall from me, I can get this thing started and going." So he assigned these two guys to me, and we changed the whole system of how we did the budgeting of US Army Europe. I got some kind of an award for that. Then they put me in another job where I had all kinds of stupid responsibilities. I had a responsibility for efficiency of each of these many, many organizations, and I got permission to send people -- Frenchmen -- back to the United States to be trained in each of those depots to do it. Then we pulled all of this together right as the secretary of defense had initiated a program to improve work force relationships, his program, and they sent it out and said, "Everybody in the army, navy, and the air force will use these procedures." And my two-star boss said, "No, we won't. We're not doing that. We got a god system, we just got it started, and, well, that's the way it will be." OK, you're the boss. So six weeks later, maybe two months later, there's a message sent to the commanding general that said "We're sending over someone from the Department of Defense to look at your program." I got called in to the CG's office, and he said, "You got two weeks to put this program in place." Well, you know, I was put into a position where I got attention, and I could do what I wanted to do, and I could get help to do it, and everything just sort of worked together. It was a great experience. But, again, it's a case of speaking up and saying what you think is wrong and finding a way to do it. I went in on the train from Orleans into Paris to the IBM plant with boxes of punch cards in my (inaudible) [01:53:43] and brought them into IBM, and we worked it out with them to do it at first before we turned it over to our own organization. That's because if we screwed it up, we'd screw them up badly. But those two finance captains did all the work. I just plowed ahead. Another time, in that same job -- I really thought -- when I got there I said, "My career is ruined. My career is ruined. Who's going to believe that I was in a damn headquarters for a support group? No, uh. I'm an armored guy. No." But anyway, they came up with another program, again, out of the Department of Defense. This time it was to work specifically with -- I can't remember the name of it, but, again, it came out of the secretary of defense's office, and again I got the job to do it. But this time I had an opportunity to start from the beginning with it. It was a matter of saving money, and we were supposed to put out programs, out to our subordinate units, and help them find money and other ways of doing business (inaudible) [01:55:09]. We started with the laundries, a simple thing, and went into the laundries with the people we trained, and they would say to the laundress, "How can you do your job better?" They'd say, "Well, I've been working at this for six years. If we did this, and that, and the other thing," and all of a sudden we weren't doing anything but saying "How do you do it?" and then helping them do it, and getting their boss to agree to it. Well, then you had to take all this information and turn it over to another agency who would check your figures, and numbers, and back and forth, and everything. That all seemed to work out, and things were going along rather well when they put me in for an award as the civilian of the year for product improvement. I was called (laughs) into Heidelberg, and they put on a parade, and the commanding general and I are -- there were other people, for other reasons, being recognized that day. I'm standing 25 beside the commanding general when the troops are passing in review, and he said, "What the hell are you doing here? This is a civilian award." I said, "Sir, you signed it." (laughter) And off we went. I just kept working. Living there was great sport, except the French are crazy. We lived in a neighborhood, as I said, on Rue de la Gale, and the house was an old one. It was rent controlled, and we had to slip the landlord money on certain days, and you'd walk up to his house with a paper bag full of money. A door would open, a hand would come out and grab the paper bag out of your thing, the extra money for the -- crazy. In the neighborhood we never made close friends except in one instance. Our youngest daughter, Ellen, went to French school. The other two kids refused; they were smart enough not to do it. Ellen and her friend [Pascale?] (inaudible) [01:57:36] walked to school with her mother and Carol, over to school. The ladies walked back from school. After lunch, walked over, back to get, march them over, again, at the end of the school day. And they talked, and they talked, and they talked. Not a single word of English was ever spoken for three years between these two women. We get back to the United States and got a very nice letter from her, in English, and she said, "You never would have improved your French the way you did if you knew I had been a nanny in Great Britain and speak English." (Cates laughs) Now, that's the dirtiest, rottenest trick I can ever imagine happening. (laughter) When we had a problem with the house, you'd try and go out and find someone that would fix the faucet. Now, there are four sizes of pipe, and there are 12 sizes of faucets, and there are 14 sizes -- and they ask you which one do you want? You don't know. So somebody has to come and measure it and go back, and two days later you've got water running again. When it came time to buy coal, we went down to the place you buy coal, and it was a storefront on the main road, right in the main store, and he's got little glass canisters with different kinds of coal in the window. You don't buy coal that way anywhere else in the world. We went in, and he wanted to know how many radiators we had in the house, and how many veins each radiator had, and how many sections were in the stove, and then he could figure out how many tons it would take to heat the house. He didn't ask if there was any broken windows, or open doors, or boards off on the roof. They did it totally unscientific. Then when you come to that decision, then they say, "Now do you want it from Belgium? Do you want it from --" you know, down the list. We want anthracite from Belgium, OK. Then they come and dump it in the house with buckets in the window of the cellar, and the whole house is covered with coal dust everywhere. And it was expensive. Living there was not easy, but we made a pact that we were going to go once a month with the kids to Paris, every time, every month, and we did, and we traveled a lot. Not any great distances, but we loved parts of France. But the French were very difficult to live with. JC: Oh, I'm sure. I've been there once. (laughs) RT: The worst one was my father had a cousin who was, in relationship to Dad, it was about six up from him in the corporation, and he was the chairman of the board. We got a call that he was coming to visit the French company that was owned by the American company, and they were going to come down and see us in this hovel (laughs). And just about the time we knew that they were coming but not exactly when they were coming, 26 the French left us with a bit of a problem. When they put in the sewer system, they left the septic tank in the house, in the basement, made of clay, and it began to leak. Do you have any idea what living in that house was like? You couldn't flush a toilet. When I'd go off to work and leave Carol, they had a deal with these crazy guys coming in, and eventually they came in. One guy came in, and he took off the top of this thing, and then he went away. She chased him down, and he said, "Oh, you've got to hire somebody else. The union won't allow me to put the hose down in here and suck out what's left. You've got to find that guy." And it went on, and on, and on, and trying to live in that house. Fortunately we got it cleaned up before Uncle George showed up for lunch. (laughter) JC: Sounds like it was quite difficult living in that house. RT: It was very difficult. Every single day one of us crossed the street to the bakery that was directly across the street from us, and we'd order a demi pan, and bring it back for breakfast, or something else. And every single day that one of us went, my own experience was I'd walk in the door -- "Bonjour, Madame." (laughter) The only guy that spoke to us lived next door, and the reason he spoke to us was that nobody else in the neighborhood, or the town, or the city would speak to him, because he had been a butcher during the Nazi occupation and gave the Nazis all the best cuts of meat. We had no phones. It took three years to get a phone, and it was a three-year tour. If you got a phone, you had nobody to call; they'd all gone home. They're crazy, just crazy. (laughs) JC: So what was the next assignment after France? RT: Well, while in France the Vietnam War broke out, and people lieutenant colonel level in Europe were being pulled back to the United States and given a command in Vietnam. So I applied to get a command in Vietnam, and they said, "Oh, no, no, no, no, you haven't finished your tour for having gone to graduate school. You can't possibly go." This is talking to somebody back in Washington. Then another job opened up, and they needed a lieutenant colonel in an armored battalion, and I called them back again. I said, "I'll come back to this job after that. How about that?" "Nope, we can't do that. We can't do that." Eventually they said, "OK, when you come home from --" I put enough pressure on them. "When you come home from France, we'll send you to Vietnam." And when we came home from France, they said, "No, you're going to go to the Armed Forces Staff College. You've been selected among the army, navy, and air force to go to the Armed Forces Staff College, for six months. After that, we'll get you a job that will get you to Vietnam." Well, you know, it's frustrating, just terribly frustrating. After the Armed Forces Staff College they told me I would go to Vietnam, but first I would go to pick up 57 tanks that had just been manufactured of a new design, and I was to form the tank battalion in the United States, train it in the United States, and take it to Vietnam. When that day came, ready to go, we had three rounds blow up in the chamber back at Aberdeen Proving Ground, and they said, "Hold it. You're no longer on the list to go. But you are going to go to the Naval War College." I couldn't get to Vietnam! It was very difficult. 27 JC: What was the Naval War College like? RT: Terrible. The Naval War College, well, we called it the sleeping room. They had two major speakers every day, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. That was fine. I mean, I loved to hear them, and they did have a message, but it wasn't work. It was sitting there like you're turning on the television. There was no challenge to this thing at all. Now you could go and get a master's degree along with it from George Washington, but I couldn't, because I had a master's degree, so they weren't going to let me take that program. So they hired somebody the University of Massachusetts had fired from their Economics Department, an old man, to be my mentor and take me through a separate program -- nothing comes out of it other than a dissertation at the end. OK, I'll put up with it, but he was awful, and it was a waste of my time. You never had time between these people to really go to the library and do something. It was 20 minutes. What can you do in the library in 20 minutes? No, you don't. Everyone went and get good coffee, sat around and talked, etc. Oop, time to go back into the bedroom. There was nothing going on in terms of substance in the place. When I had my first time as directing my little group, I worked long and hard on the assignments, and came in the next morning and said, "OK, let's see. Now we had readings in this one, and then we had a differing opinion from this requirement, and then this one, and another one. Commander Jones, what do you think about this?" "Oh, shit," he said, "You don't think I pay any attention to that, do you? I'm in the George Washington program. I'm not going to do any of this." That was a general attitude. There wasn't any depth to what we were doing. One day the admiral in charge, who'd married a British lady and had just come back from another tour in London, said, "How would you like to have lunch at my house with a guest speaker, Todd?" I said, "Gee, that would be very nice, sir." I got up there to discover there were 12 or 13 of us at separate tables and he and the speaker was at another table. What did we do? We sat around and chatted, and ate his food, and left. He said, "How'd you like that?" I said, "What are you referring to, sir?" He said, "Well, the opportunity to be with the speaker." I said, "We weren't with the speaker. You were with the speaker." "Well, how would you handle that?" "I'd put in a round table, and we'd all sit around and talk." "What a great idea." Really, really bad stuff. So he did, and then he invited me to come, and I went, and he said, "How did that go?" I said, "Sir, that was wonderful. But if you did that in the classrooms it might help, too." "We don't have round tables in the classrooms?" He'd never been in a classroom. We didn't have one single naval officer who was nuclear qualified come to the course. They sent them to the National War College. We didn't have one single graduate of a senior college who was on the faculty. I could go on, and on, and on about how bad it was. But one day, in Vietnam, I was sitting at my desk outside General Abrams's office, and I got a call from the naval head in Vietnam. I'm trying to think of his name. I know it as well as I know my own. But anyway, he called me and said, "Russ, I got to see General Abrams." I said, "Well, he's tied up at the moment. Come on up and sit down, and I'll get you in just the minute I can break into it." He said, "Good," and he came up. We sat there, and he said, "I got to talk to General Abrams. They're going to announce this afternoon that I'm the new chief of naval operations, and I don't want him to hear it from anybody else but me." I said, "Oh, have I been waiting for this." He said, 28 "What are you talking about?" I said, "You can do something about the Naval War College that I couldn't," and I laid it out for him, and he fired the guy when he got back there. This is Zumwalt, Admiral Zumwalt. He fired the guy and changed all the programs. I mean, they were tough on him, and they've got a good school there now, or at least the last I knew of it, a very good school that has been accredited. But it was awful. JC: Did you finally get to Vietnam after the Naval War College? RT: Yeah, that's why I was sitting in General Abrams's office. I was to be sent over to be on the command list, which meant this list of people the army feels are capable of doing a job as colonel in a combat unit. They sent my name over, and then they called me back and said, "We've withdrawn your name." (sighs deeply) I said, "Come on, guys. This isn't fair." He's "Hold it, hold it, hold it. They're looking for an assistant to General Abrams, and we've sent your name in." I said, "Look, I've met General Abrams a few times. I don't think he was very impressed with me. I don't think he'll select me off of any list of yours." He said, "There is no list. We only sent your name." (laughter) So I went over there, and I sat for, oh, eight months I guess in General Cao Van Vien's office, who was the head of the Vietnamese armed forces, and I acted as a liaison between General Abrams and General Cao Van Vien, of which there was no requirement. Those guys talked to each other whenever they wanted to. But I represented General Abrams when General Cao Van Vien called the other -- the Koreans, the Australians, the New Zealanders, etc., etc. -- together on a Monday morning to have a meeting, and that was interesting, and I learned a lot, and I met a lot of people. Eventually the secretary of the staff rotated home, and I took his slot. You actually work for the chief of staff, but I read and decided which messages that came in that night would go into General Abrams the next morning, so I got to work very, very early and stayed very, very late, day after day after day, seven days a week. But I really loved working for the guy. Every Saturday morning we would meet with the commanders of the army, navy, air force, etc., the CIA, in the basement of our building, and it was general so-and-so, admiral so-and-so, etc., and Colonel Todd. And Colonel Todd sat in the back of the room and checked -- again, a great learning experience. Watching the interrelationship between these very, very senior commanders was a great experience. Then I went with General Abrams every Monday morning down to brief the ambassador. We'd drive down in his sedan. On Sunday I'd prepare a book for him that he'd go over, and then he'd have that in front of him. He never read it. He never sat in front of the ambassador and read it. I'd be on pins and needles all the time that he'd turn to me and say, "What the hell's this?" (laughs) But he was great. Then I got a command. I left the headquarters and went out and joined the 24th Division as a brigade commander, and I'd been there about eight days when it was announced that the brigade was to go home. (laughs) The next day I got a call on the radio, out flying around in my helicopter -- I had seven battalions in the brigade at the time -- from the corps commander, General Davidson, and General Davidson said, "Meet me at coordinates so-and-so," and we both flew into a point. He said, "I'm pulling you out of this. I've got a problem with the Royal Thai Army. The officer we have working 29 with them is not acceptable any longer to the Royal Thai Army. I need somebody tomorrow, and you're it." That was the craziest thing I've ever been involved in. Wonderful, wonderful Thai commander, who began his military experience at age five in a military academy run by the government. He finished his education in France. The French owned Indonesia. Thailand (inaudible) [02:16:30]. So there we were. Day in and day out, he and I would receive the same briefing. He'd get it in Thai, and his aide-de-camp would give it to me in English. We never ever, ever came to the same solution. We were generations in thought apart. For example, in World War II Thailand never declared war on anybody, but went to war against the Allied forces when they thought Japan was winning. This fellow was a captain in the Thai Army, and he did something very spectacular -- whatever it was, I don't know, very heroic. He was called back to the capital, and he was given the Royal Order of the White Elephant or something. They'd give out five for every war. This was something very, very special, parades, the whole business. He went back to his unit, and then the Thais decided that the Japanese weren't winning the war, and they changed and became our allies. Now you're not going to believe this. They called him back and took the medal because he was fighting on the wrong side. (laughs) I could go on forever on this. My brain couldn't absorb it. When I'd left that and gone back to the United States, I guess when this happened -- I don't remember where I was, but anyway, I wrote him a letter, and I said, "What in the world is going on in Bangkok? You were the commander of the 1st Division, responsible for the security of Bangkok. Your father-in-law is the dictator. They're rioting in the streets, and, to the best I know, nothing's happening." He wrote back to me, after some (inaudible) [02:19:06] time, and said, "Well, you just don't understand our way of thinking. The soldiers had killed some civilians who were rioting, so I went back to my BOQ and stayed there two weeks, and when I came back my father-in-law had been deposed, and the fighting was over." Huh? (laughs) And it wasn't that he wasn't a good soldier, and it wasn't that he was afraid of anything. No, we'd fly around in his damn helicopter and take it places I never would have gone. On the other hand, he had some VIPs coming over, and he said, "We can't take the helicopter today. I'm going to use it tomorrow for some Thai VIPs, and I don't want any fingerprints on it, I don't want to make sure there's no bullet holes in the thing. We'll just take this other thing." What? We couldn't come together. At one point, the real one that almost got me in trouble -- I think it was on Thanksgiving -- our base camp also had three units in it from the 1st Cavalry Division, and the Thais, and the Thais who were responsible for the security, and I was responsible to the US headquarters. Well, on the big army base, maybe 15 miles away, on Thanksgiving night everything went up in the air, flares, and shooting, and machine guns, and all the Thais thought this was great, and they all did it. He called me in the next morning, and he laid me out. He said, "No Thai would ever do that. Your Americans did this." Well, OK, I'll suck it up. "I assure you it won't happen again, sir." So come New Year's time, I put out to my staff with each of his units, where they normally served, to stay with them all night and record everything that happened in that TOC. Next morning he got me again when I went in there. I said, "Sir, before we say anything else, I suggest you talk to your TOC officer." He went down there, and those 30 guys, we made them record everything, and he discovered that it was his units that were doing it. What do you suppose his answer to that one was? JC: I don't know. RT: He called in his senior officers and said, "I'm resigning from the army. You've let me down." And he went back into his hooch and stayed there for about three days. I woke up at the end of three days early in the morning, and the whole goddamn Thai Army that was posted in Vietnam was out there in a formation. I walked out to see what was going on and stood behind him -- he was up on a platform -- and they all apologized, etc., and he forgave them, and they went back into the woods to their positions. They'd left their fighting positions to come back and apologize to the commanding general. JC: Oh, wow. RT: (laughs) You can find one worse than that, I'll bet. My goodness. JC: Want to stop again? (break in audio) JC: Let's stop here, because we've done about another hour and 10 minutes. (break in audio) RT: Let's -- (break in audio) [02:23:15] JC: All right, this is Joseph Cates. Today is May 19, 2016. This is my second interview with Major General Russell Todd. This interview is taking place at the Sullivan Museum and History Center. This interview is sponsored by the Sullivan Museum and History Center and is part of the Norwich Voices Oral History Project. So when we left off last time we had gone through Vietnam, and you're ready for your next assignment. What was that? RT: OK. When the Royal Thai Army left Vietnam I moved out to a brigade, as I said earlier. But the time with the brigade was very unsatisfactory to me as a professional. It was a little more than a month, and that's not what I considered to be a command. So thinking about what would happen when I got home, I called to the Pentagon, talked to the people in armor branch. A lieutenant colonel sits on a desk and shuffles the papers for colonels and helps make the decisions. I told him I wanted to have a particular command at Fort Lewis, Washington, that I knew the command was about to change. And they said, "Oh, we've already appointed somebody to that port. But you are coming back to go to the Pentagon." 31 I had fought off the Pentagon earlier in my tour. When I was working for General Abrams I got a call from the Pentagon that said "We're bringing you back to the United States because a new position has opened up, and it calls for a brigadier general, and although you're only a colonel, we want you to fill that position." And I said, "Tell me about it." They said, "Well, you're going to be the army's first drug-and-alcohol-abuse officer." I said, "You've been watching what I'm drinking." He said, "No, this is what we've got in mind for you." And I said, "That isn't going to work. It just isn't going to work. I'm over here on a two-year tour, and if you want me to leave here, I'll give you General Abrams's telephone number, and you can call him and ask him to release me." Well, no, they didn't think they would do that. (laughs) So when I went back I went to the Pentagon, and there I went to work for a four-star general who I had met several times, because he traveled to Vietnam back and forth, General Kerwin, a wonderful, wonderful soldier. And when I reported in he told me that I was going to be the head of the department that he supervised for the Modern Volunteer Army. My job would be to coordinate all of the programs that were going on both at posts, camps, and stations around the country and around the world, and also within the Pentagon, to evaluate where we ought to be going. Well, OK. It wasn't my first choice. I had about, oh, 10 lieutenant colonels working for me in a very small office that didn't have any windows, and there was a lieutenant general working in the chief of staff's office whose title was the chief of modern volunteer army. So I was torn between two very senior officers who didn't agree with each other very often, and the job went on, and back and forth, and up and down, but a lot of answering letters from the Congress and this kind of thing, and then evaluating things that came from the field. Well, one day I was up in the next level in the Pentagon, because I'd been called by that lieutenant general, and he started chewing me out just something awful for reasons I couldn't explain. Finally he said, "I'm going down and see General Kerwin." My boss. What the hell's this about? So I was standing alone in his office. He went out a side door, and I said, "I've got to get to General Kerwin quick." So I picked up -- they have red phones that go between the very senior officers. I picked it up and dialed General Kerwin's office, and he has to answer that, no matter what's going on. And I said, "Sir, we got trouble," and told him what was going on. I saw him later in the day. He said, "Thanks. That really made a difference." From that moment on, he treated me like I was one of his best friends and had faith in what I was doing. Now, they did bring back in a major general who had just stopped commanding the 82nd Airborne Division, and he came in, and he was my immediate supervisor. But General Kerwin made a proposal -- not a proposal -- instructions to everybody about that time that said "Everybody that works for me in the deputy chief of staff personnel office is going to spend four years in this job." I could see my chances of getting a second shot at a brigade just going out the window. Carol and I had bought a house in Washington, the first home we ever owned. In France it was a rental, and everything else was army quarters. So this was special. She loved that house. She took a job in Washington, DC, in the personnel department, and then she had done a lot of that before, and that was sort of a big part of what she had done at Radcliffe after Smith, and she loved that job. In fact, everywhere we went she tried to find a job that would keep her busy and active. 32 So there we were, balancing back and forth. Now what do I do? Well, I'll go back to my old trick and call the people in my branch on the phone, and I called this young man early one morning before anybody else was in the office, and he happened to be there. I told him my plight, that I'd been really cheated in that one month I'd had in the thing, and General Davidson had said I was coming to Europe with him to command a brigade, and that didn't work out once he found out I'd never been in the Pentagon. "So I want a command, and I want to lay it out right now. I want you to start working on it." He said, "Sir, I'm not sure I can do that." I said, "Well, what time do you come to work?" He said, "Well, I'm in here by 8:00 every morning." I said, "Get in at 7:30 on Monday, because I'm going to call you every goddamn Monday I'm sitting at this desk," and I did. Eventually he said, "I've made an appointment with you with my boss, Colonel [Touche?], who oversees all the branches for colonels." I walked over, and it was my old friend from Fort Knox who had been the senior aide when I was the junior aide to General Collier. He had talked it over with the committee that makes these kinds of decisions, and they were going to put my name in nomination to go back onto the brigade commanders list. Great. A few weeks later I get a phone call that says "We put your name before the committee, and you are on the list, and you're number two." Uh-oh. I'm supposed to spend four years working for General Kerwin? (laughs) So a little later they call back and said, "Whoa. Wait. In the 2nd Armored Division the brigade commander has moved up to be chief of staff, and that brigade is open." I said, "OK. Now you guys call General Kerwin and tell him that you're pulling me out." They said, "Like hell we will." (laughter) So I went to see General Kerwin, and he sort of grimaced and (inaudible) [02:32:24]. He said, "You know my policy." I said, "Yes, I do, sir, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me." And he said, "I'll tell you tomorrow." So the next day he called me, and he said, "Against my better judgment I'm going to let you go to that command. But let me tell you this. The day that's over you're coming back to work for me." I said, "Yes, sir. Thank you." I ran home. (laughs) A little later, in time, the moving truck was in front of the house. I'd gone home, checked out of the office, done everything appropriately, and gone back, and there was a phone call waiting for me at home. General Kerwin. He went on to say what he really wanted me to do, wouldn't I know, is that -- "Sir, we've made our deal," and he says, "OK, but remember, I'm going to get you when you get (inaudible) [02:33:21]." And that was very pleasing to me. I loved the idea of working for him. But, again, it was a matter of just working your way through the system. It was terribly important to my career and to me. People were telling me that "You don't have to do this" kind of thing. You know, "You've done all those kinds of things." But no, that wasn't the career I wanted. So I went to the 2nd Armored Division and took over the 3rd Brigade of the 2nd Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas, and that was a real fun thing. I really enjoyed it. I had a lot of good people working for me. Some of them went on to become general officers later on. The first thing that happened was they told me that the brigade in one month is going to move to Germany on Operation [Forger?]. Does that mean anything to you? Well, in the Cold War we had built all kinds of home hutches and places to store tanks and materials that take a lot of time to get into the theater. If they said, "OK, the balloon went up. Come over here," you wouldn't have had any -- you'd have to wait for your 33 tanks for a month. So they had all those vehicles and stuff over there, and every year we went over and exercised the idea of flying over -- not me, the army did. It was my brigade's turn, and it was just great. I had planned that thing for every possible contingency, in my mind, and we laid it out with the staff. I said, "Now if this happens, or that happens, or this happens, this is what we'll do. Plan A, B, C, and D." And damn, I figured everything except it was going to snow at Fort Hood, and the air force wouldn't show up. (laughter) So we were about two days late getting there, and it slowed things up. But we went out on maneuvers for about a month and a half, and that was a great experience. I'd done it as a company commander when I was stationed in Europe, but as a brigade -- when I went over I've been detached from the 2nd Armored Division of the United States and attached to the 1st Infantry Division, when I got over to Europe. There for the first time I met a fellow named (laughs) -- I met someone, a senior officer, a brigadier general who, because my brigade wasn't part of his division, I had to go through the ropes of him looking over my shoulder for the first three weeks of what we were doing. It wasn't easy. Eventually he and I had a good reputation among each other, and then we're good. It worked out pretty well. Well, his name is Fuller, Fred Fuller. Just to move that part of the story a little further forward, when I went to Forces Command he was the DESOPS, and I was the assistant -- correction, he was the DESPER, personnel, and I was the assistant DESOPS. And again, good friends, you know. No, sir. I had to prove myself all over again to him. That was tough. That was tough. Then when I became division commander at Fort Hood, would you believe they made him the corps commander, and my boss again? And again, I went through the process. I called it rook training, he wanted to test me on everything that was going on, and then eventually he agreed, and we got along. That was a very difficult relationship I had with that individual. So we came back from Germany after the Reforger, and it was time to change division commanders. A general officer that I had met once or twice but didn't know came in as the two-star commanding the (inaudible) [02:38:26]. This was a fight for my life. He, in my opinion, didn't represent a good soldier. He would drive in his jeep with the two stars on the front, down the street, and the men in the division would say, "Hi, General," and he'd wave back, "Hi." No saluting, none of this. He would come around in my battalion and ask the company commander and the battalion commander to see their operational reports, and particularly the readiness reports, whether or not this tank would go or that one. He required them, not required them, but pushed hard for them to like take something off this tank and put it on that tank, and now we've created another tank that this one isn't working, this one if you take the parts and put it on this one, that's one less tank, but will look that much better. It was everything how you looked. Eventually he was promoted to lieutenant general and shipped to Europe, and his chief of staff caught on to his way of life, reported it. He got thrown out of the army, reduced to major general, and was retired. But that was a tough fight, that was a tough fight. In town now there's a major general, retired, John Greenway. Maybe you've met Phyllis. JC: I have. RT: Well, John Greenway was my chief of staff in the brigade, and I don't know how many times he saved my life. He'd say, "No, no, no, don't go up there and tell that general off. 34 Don't do it. Stop here." One time I actually said, "The hell with you, John, I'm going up there." I was really mad. Again, he had ordered my people to do something that was not proper. So John called up the division chief of staff, who was a good friend, and said, "Russ is on the way. Stop him." (laughs) So I never got in to see him, and I calmed down, and the chief of staff discussed it with me in a way. But it was a difficult, difficult system to live with, but I had wonderful people working for me. JC: Well, that's good. RT: Yeah. JC: What year is this? RT: Oh, my God. (inaudible) [02:41:04] I can't remember my birthday. (laughter) It was about '60 something, yeah. I came back to the United States, and I was assigned to forces command, where General Kerwin was, the man that said, "You're going to go work for me," and I went to work for General Kerwin just as I'd been promoted by the system to be brigadier general. I worked for him for two years and then another year with General Rogers, who went on to be the chief of staff of the army, and it was great. Real professionals who understood various ways of handling people beautifully. I must admit, he had a chief of staff who wasn't quite up to speed in my opinion, and as a result I found myself bypassing the chief of staff, which really isn't a very good idea. But both General Kerwin and General Rogers, when I was there, would call me on the phone directly and ask me to do something. As the junior brigadier general at Fort McPherson, Georgia, they immediately appointed me to be club officer, and to be the president of the Association of the United States Army chapter at Fort McPherson. I was really the junior guy in that headquarters as far as a general officer is concerned. The biggest thing that happened to me really there was that that's when we had the baby lift out of Vietnam, and then we had the evacuation of Vietnam. In the operations business at forces command, we had the responsibility of preparing those units in the United States, wherever they might be involved, to prepare them for the influx of people. I was up a lot of nights and really mad at the air force sometimes. They would bring in planes early, before we could finish taking people off the previous planes and get them, kind of thing. They finally came around. But it was a real wonderful experience as far as I'm concerned. I had the thrill of getting a thank you letter from the president and being called in by the State Department, who had the responsibility of taking these people once they arrived in the United States -- when they arrived in the United States the army was responsible for them. We took old barracks and tried to fix them up to be for families and all the rest of it. And the next step was to put them out into the population in America, and that was done by the State Department. At the end of this, the State Department gave me an award and invited me over to Foggy Bottom, and it was carried out in the formal part of that. It's a very ordinary-looking building, but inside, on the top floor, they have collected and put in there all the furnishing and antiques of America. They would go to somebody that had something that the State Department wanted, and they would say "We would like to have it, and we will replicate it exactly, and give you back the replication." They built -- it's a museum, it's a wonderful, wonderful museum of 35 American furniture through time. I was really impressed with it being there. I wasn't that impressed with the State Dept- people in Vietnam. (laughs) It was very interesting. JC: Yes, sir. So this was around 1975, that would be (crosstalk; inaudible) [02:45:47]. RT: Yeah, that's right. Yeah. I did one or two year. JC: Where were you from Fort McPherson? RT: From Fort McPherson, when my immediate boss left General Rogers called me in and said, "I want you to be my full-time top guy and deputy chief of staff operations." I said, "No, General, that isn't right." "What are you talking about, it isn't right?" I said, "You want someone that's been a division commander to be in that job. I mean, you're dealing with all those division commanders, and if the guy that's passing the instructions hasn't had the experience of being a division commander, it doesn't come through right." And he said, "All right. All right." About a year later I was on a board in Washington. You're sent in to do a lot of those things. Interestingly enough, on this particular one I was the head of the board for captains being promoted to major, and I got in trouble with General Rogers. The instructions we had were "These are the formulas, etc., that you follow when you're looking at the history of their being in the service. You can add to this other things, if you, as a board, want to do it." The first thing we added to it was that any captain who had served a normal period of time as a captain in the combat arms branches and had not had a company wasn't to be promoted on this occasion to major. Passing up a captain, you pass up the real army and the real understanding of the army, and, oh, boy. It turns out that we eliminated from being promoted five captains at West Point, instructors, and that reverberated around the world. (laughs) General Rogers finally calmed down. Then on another occasion when I was away in Washington he called me on the phone and said, "The major generals promotion list has just come out." I said, "Oh, good. Who's on it?" and they said, "You are." Oh, wow. After I went back he called me in his office and said, "Now, I'm going to send you to Fort Hood to command a division." Previous discussion, you got to have a command. I said, "Oh, my. Where's George going?" And he looked at me with this great strain on his face and said, "George who?" I said, "George Patton, 2nd Armored Division." I had been in the 2nd Armored Division twice. Four men have commanded the 2nd Armored Division, three of them during World War II. I knew that was my place in life. Well, he said, "You're going to the 1st Cav." Of course, when I'd been there as a brigade commander the 1st Cav was the enemy. (laughter) It was a little difficult to change my mindset that I was now the head of the 1st Cavalry Division, but it turned out to be a good assignment, too. We were immediately assigned a mission of working on something that was called Division '86, and this was the '76-'77 time frame. What we would do is to experiment with different organizational concepts, try them out, and another R&D organization would evaluate whether this was a good idea, or whether it wasn't a good idea. But, man, was that a lot of work. We had soldiers picking up their mattresses and marching over two streets, and then joining another company, because now we were trying -- we were going to have tank platoons with only four tanks rather than five tanks, 36 and these guys had to fill in for the -- you know, back and forth, and up and down. It was a crazy time, but it was very, very rewarding. We lived next door to George Patton and Joanne Patton, and as a matter of fact we had become very close friends over the time we were in the army. We went home on vacations sometimes by accident at the same time, back in New England, and other times purposefully. But we celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary together, both divisions, at the club, and it was officers. It was really good sport. JC: Was that your last command? RT: No. They sent me to -- at one Fort Hood, after two years of commanding the division, I went down and commanded something called [Tecada?] [02:51:38], which was a research and development experimental station kind of thing. I was doing to the rest of the world what they'd been doing to me, for two years I guess, at which point I was shipped over to Europe to be the deputy chief of staff for operations under General Kroesen. He was one of the most magnificent soldiers I'd ever met. I worked for him once before for a short time, but he was first class. Then I got a call from Loring Hart, president of Norwich University, who I'd gotten to know -- over his 10-year span as president -- pretty well. In my traveling around at various times, I was the head of the Norwich Club of Georgia, the Norwich Club of Fort Hood, the Norwich Club in Europe. They'd come over to visit, and we became close. I had come home on leave to see my dad, who was in bad trouble health wise, and I got a call from Loring Hart to my dad's home down in New Hampshire. He said, "I need you to come up here. I need to talk to you; it's important." And I said, "Gee, I don't know. Dad is not well, I don't know how long he's going to live, and I can't be here very long, so I really and truly want to see as much of him as I can." He said, "Well, afterward, after this weekend" -- it was a big alumni weekend -- "I'll stop in to see you." I said OK. Well, Mother got a hold of me, and Dad got a hold of me and said, "Go on up there." Dad said, "Get a hold of my classmates and tell them I'll be there next year." Well, I knew most of his classmates. When I arrived I found them at lunch in the Armory, and I walked down to the table, the half where they were, and started saying this lie about my father, he's going to be getting well, and he'll see you next year when he comes. All of a sudden the most unusual thing happened. There was this great noise in the Armory, and it kept getting louder and louder and louder. As this individual coming into the room got closer to our table, I discovered that it was General Harmon coming back, and all of these people were saying, "Ernie, Ernie, Ernie, Ernie." I couldn't believe it, you know, really and truly. It showed me just exactly how much he was loved by this institution. That doesn't mean he didn't make a lot of mistakes at times, but he really pulled us out of the woods. So Loring Hart stops in at the house and says, "The board at Norwich University has told me that 10 years is enough, and I'm going to retire. I want you to put your name on the list to be considered." I said, "You're a PhD, you taught English, you became the dean of the university. I don't have any of that." He said, "And you don't need it either, because I'm absolutely certain they're going to choose a soldier." I said, "What do you know, I'm qualified." I went back to Europe, told my boss, and then came back. I made a couple of trips back and forth. I told my boss, which was General Kroesen, what was 37 going on, and then went to see the chief of staff of the army to tell him that I was putting in my papers. You know, after you've been division commander you owe the army something, because of the experience they've given you. So I went to see General "Shy" Meyer, who I'd known in Vietnam, and I was a little dubious here. What will he say? So I told him, and he jumped up from behind his chair, rushed around to my side of his desk, shook my hand, and said, "Boy, that's just exactly what I want to do when I get out." (laughter) Then, unfortunately, and this doesn't have to be spread around, he told me that my name had been submitted to be promoted to Lieutenant General, and it is now before the Congress. Had I not put this in and had I been selected, I was going to go to one of two different jobs, and neither one of them sounded as much fun to me as coming home. Not that I could change my mind. Once you've told the army you're retiring, you're retiring. You don't change your mind. So that's how I got here. JC: What were the other two choices? RT: To be the chief of staff of USEUCOM, which was for the European theater of all of the activities there, and the other one was on the joint staff, doing the DES-OPS kind of work, which is called the J5. JC: So you come to Norwich. Talk a little bit about the application process, because I know Phil Marsilius says in his oral history that they gave you an eight-point plan that they wanted implemented. RT: Yeah. Very unusual I thought, and very useful. Before I get to that (laughs), Carol and I came. We went to New York City and joined a committee of the board who were involved in the selection process. The plane was late, the taxis weren't running, and we were late getting to this thing. Carol was a little nervous that that showed that maybe we weren't working hard enough to get there. They said to me, "We've just finished lunch. Do you want something to eat?" and I said, "Oh, yeah. How about a bowl of onion soup?" Carol said to me afterward, "You could have chosen anything but that cheese dangling out of your mouth." (laughter) But, to me, we had a wonderful conversation, and quite frankly I left in the cab going back to the airport with a member of the board who sat there and congratulated us, because they were certain that the board was now going to select us. Yeah, interesting. Where were we in our discussion? JC: The eight-point plan. RT: Yeah. I can't tell you what the eight-points are right now, but they were all reasonable, one of which was to make Vermont College work, the system of the two institutions together, and that's interesting, too. On that point I tried very hard -- they put a lot of pressure on Loring to go up to Vermont College at least twice a week. He'd go home, changed out of his uniform into civilian clothes, go up to Vermont College, and I don't know what he did, presumably he did good things, and came back again. I got into that routine with him, and I found that Vermont College was in deep trouble, I mean, in my opinion. Over time Vermont College had reduced the quality of their education in order 38 to sustain the number of students they needed, and they had all kinds of programs going that didn't make a lot of sense. They had a nursing program that was excellent. Excellent. They had just bought some programs from -- oh, what's the name of it? JC: Goddard? RT: Goddard College, and they were difficult to mesh into the family. For example, I hadn't been here very long, and I got a call from Mrs. Lippincott, who was the chief officer of Vermont College and had previously been Loring's assistant. I got a call that said, "There's going to be a graduation on Friday" -- this was about Wednesday -- "and it's going to be outside at Vermont College. It's going to be one of the Goddard programs that's graduating at this time. They would like to invite you to be part of their graduation." So I said, "Fine, I'll be there." But before I went I hadn't heard anything more, so I called up to find out, and I said, "Now, what's my role in this? Do I hand out the diplomas? Do I make a speech, do I congratulate them from the platform? What do I do?" They said, "Oh, no, they just want you to sit there and be present. They do all this themselves." OK. I can live with that, and we'll see what happens. The first student to graduate came up, gave a little speech, each one of them, and then took their diploma and put it from their left hand to their right hand, and went back to their chair. The institution wasn't involved. This happened seven or eight times before I really said this is something we've got to look at. Then they decided, or they didn't then decide, the next thing was to have a musical rendition. They had a fellow with a fife and a piano player, and they pushed the piano out toward the group, and the front leg broke off pushing it through the grass. They somehow got it jacked up and started, and the flute player -- well, it was awful, just awful. The next day I said to my vice president, Jim Galloway, major general, retired, I told Jim what had happened, and he said, "You know, you weren't the first. I was the first. The same sort of thing went on, but it was crazier when I was up there." I said, "Tell me." He said, "The flute player was in a tree." (laughter) So we spent some time trying to bring it into the focus. Quite frankly they had some fine professors. They just didn't have a system involved. JC: I've always heard Goddard is a little strange. RT: Well, put it this way. One time Carol and I invited the president of -- oh, in Burlington. JC: UVM? RT: N