were perceived in a rather simplistic way as a good luck charm and after all, you had ultimate protection!
There is also an expectation that a Chaplain will hold a regular service either in a makeshift chapel or an impromptu service in the field wherever personnel gather. Interestingly I found on my last tour that few attended a service on a Sunday, I would perhaps get a handful of regulars. What I did find however was that many would use the chapel during the week, choosing to pause and reflect during moments of personal crisis or in particular when aircrew were about to embark upon another key mission. I found it fascinating that whilst senior officers rarely attended worship they always liked to have the reassurance that you were regularly praying for them especially during moments when important decisions were made.
I have noticed that in the Services there is still a significant requirement and even desire for some formalised religious observance. In particular, graduation ceremonies at both RAF Halton and RAF Cranwell are followed by prayers and a church service respectively, it remains an important rite of passage and many cadets graduating from the RAF College deem it to be the most important part of the day. For many recruits, the Chaplain may well be the first Christian minister they have encountered, and they begin their careers knowing that the padre will always be there in time of need.
The recent conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq have given Chaplains a privileged but tragic role. After a death on operations, a repatriation ceremony is normally held with the Chaplain leading prayers on the back of the aircraft before the body is returned to the UK. It is usual for the whole detachment to pay their respects which can result in several hundred attending. In the darkness the Chaplain stands at the runway and watches the huge C-17 Globemaster leave with its tragic cargo – hours later his or her colleagues in the United Kingdom will be standing with the families as the reality of
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their loss is literally brought home to them. On those darkest of days, the Chaplain is there, holding out the hope of Christ.
Of course, the Chaplain is not there alone – there a whole team of people are involved from drivers to police to catering staff – all determined to do their best for the grieving family in their loss. In a way, this is itself a theological statement on the value of human life, an assertion that death is a tragedy and not simply a natural consequence of living in a closed universe. The Chaplain may not be able to say much on these occasions as he ministers to the bereaved and their carers but his presence is a reminder that even there God is present.
The Chaplain has an immensely privileged position, but it also carries a certain tension. The temptation is always there to be subsumed by the uniform, culture, and traditions of the organisation, and simply function as a tribal shaman, a lucky charm or court jester. This temptation is, of course common to all ministries and not just the military Chaplain. Any of us can be so anxious to fit in to our surrounding culture that we embrace it uncritically and fail to minister as we ought.
Any of us can find it easy to fall in with the mores of our flock. As Royal Air Force Chaplains, our rank slides bear the relative rank that we carry, from Flight Lieutenant to Air Vice Marshal. Common to all of us, however, is the winged cross that we wear above our rank, both physically and metaphorically. We wear black crosses on our combat uniforms, and Chaplains’ badges on our best uniforms. Our clerical title is in plain text; our rank is described in brackets. For we are commissioned as officers within the Chaplains’ Branch. Uniquely, we are the only military personnel in Britain who never carry arms, and are not trained to use them. We are bound by the disciplines of our sending churches for prayer and worship. We may well be in the military and share its culture but first and foremost we are priests and ministers of the Church.
This is all best encapsulated perhaps in the title that we carry – padre. Quite how the Spanish name title for ‘father’ found its way into the British Armed Forces is something of a mystery, but it’s thought to date back to the Peninsular War of the early nineteenth century. Most Service personnel will never know their Chaplain’s given name but will simply address them as ‘padre’. It’s a title which confers both anonymity and trust. Generations of military personnel have learnt that the man or woman who comes along under the sign of the cross is there to be trusted. They don’t care if you are a Methodist or a Catholic or an Elim Pentecostal – you’re a padre and that’s what matters. When the rockets are falling on the desert airfield, or their life is falling apart in a Lincolnshire married quarter – they want you there, and they may not be able to articulate it, but ultimately they want you because God is there too.
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