March 7, 2015

Finest Hour 158, Spring 2013

Page 17

By Rev. John Rawlinson

Bishop C. Kilmer Myers of California told of a delightful encounter with Churchill and Roosevelt which I am certain appears in no account of World War II. It resided only in Bishop Myers’s memory.

In 1945 Myers, then a U.S. Navy chaplain, was aboard his ship in port when he was summoned to the captain’s cabin “on the double” with his Prayer Book. Without explanation, the C.O. led him off the ship to a waiting car, and they sped off into the unknown.

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En route, the captain said that there had been a call for an Episcopal chaplain, and Myers was the nearest one available. Soon they came to a heavily guarded villa; they paused for security clearance and were waved in. At the entrance, scrutinized by more security personnel, they were led down a long hallway. At the end were guards who opened two imposing doors. As they stepped in, Myers was astonished to see President Franklin Delano Roosevelt seated at a desk, poring over a variety of papers. He stood nervously in silent awe before the President’s desk.

Roosevelt looked up and apologized for keeping the chaplain waiting. He said that he would like to have a church service on the upcoming Sunday, and he hoped the chaplain would conduct it. With that, he pulled a blank sheet of paper from his desk, writing as he spoke. Identifying the coming Sunday according to the church calendar, Roosevelt said: “So the lessons for that Sunday will be…” and noted their substance—from memory. Next he began to mention particular hymns, and their numbers, as appropriate to the lessons, writing them down as he spoke. Roosevelt handed the sheet to Myers, saying these were his suggestions, and that the chaplain could, of course, select other hymns if he preferred them.

Myers, stunned by the President’s prodigious liturgical and ecclesiastical knowledge, asked if the Prime Minister would be joining them for the service. The President said he thought so, and Myers asked whether as a matter of courtesy he should consult the Prime Minister about the content of the service. Roosevelt said it would be a good idea, dismissing Myers and his C.O. to consult Mr. Churchill.

Myers and his captain passed through the guards, reentered their car and careened toward their next stop. Shortly they were at the front gate of another villa. Passing through i t s security, they were handed along by more guards, and walked down another long hallway to sentries who opened two more imposing doors. They were in Winston Churchill’s bedroom.

The Prime Minister lay abed, with an array of State papers strewn atop the covers. Clearly they were anticipated. Churchill greeted the chaplain, mentioned the coming service, and reached for a sheet of paper. He noted the ecclesiastical day, the lessons, and suitable hymns—like Roosevelt from memory. That done, he dismissed his visitors, who returned to their car.

Back in the car, Myers compared the two sheets of paper—the President’s and the Prime Minister’s—realizing with consternation that there was nothing on either sheet that agreed!¹

Uncomfortable, Myers told his captain that he was at a loss. Which set of “suggestions” should he use? Whom should he offend? The captain decided that they should again consult the President. Back they went to the President’s villa where, navigating through the layers of security, they were again ushered into the President’s study.

Roosevelt was surprised to see them. The bewildered Myers explained that his and Churchill’s notes had nothing in common, and thrust the two sheets before the President. Roosevelt glanced briefly at the documents, smiled and said to Myers: “Let the old son of a bitch have his way!” With that, Myers and the captain returned to their ship.

From the foregoing paragraphs, canny readers will recognize the scene as the Yalta Conference of 4-11 February 1945. Roosevelt’s study was in the Livadia Palace, which also hosted the plenary sessions; Churchill was housed in the Vorontsov Palace a short distance away. (See “Livadia Revisited,” FH 146, Spring 2010.)

Bishop Myers closed by admitting that to his great regret, he was unable to conduct the service. Just before it was to occur, his own ship was ordered to move. Clearly, even the President of the United States could not keep a naval vessel in port against sailing orders!²

Reprinted by kind permission from the Spring 2012 Newsletter, National Episcopal Historians and Archivists, Swarthmore, Pennsylania. Thanks to Professor Suzanne Geissler Bowles, William Paterson University, Wayne, New Jersey, who brought the article to our attention, and to Professor Warren Kimball, who assisted in research.

Endnotes:

1. The lectionaries of the Church of England and Episcopal Church did not correspond in 1945, and lessons very rarely coincided on the same Sunday. A colleague looked into the details and discovered the following, assuming the encounter took place in Yalta, 4-11 February 1945. If the Sunday in question was 11 February 1945—the sixth Sunday after Epiphany—the lessons for Morning Prayer according to  the  Church of England, were Micah 2 and John 5:24-end or James 5. But according to the 1945 Lectionary for the U.S. Episcopal Church the lessons for Morning Prayer were Isaiah 2:6-19 and Matthew 25:14-29. —Editor, NEHA Newsletter

2. With the help of Professor Warren Kimball we determined that the date of the service was indeed 11 February, the last day of the Yalta conference; and that Chaplain Myers was probably stationed on one of two U.S. minesweepers, USS Pinnacle or USS Implicit, the only U.S. Navy ships moored at Yalta harbor. At 4 p.m. on the 11th, the President left Yalta for Sebastapol; three hours later he boarded USS Catoctin, moored at the Soviet naval base there. Early the next morning FDR motored to Saki airfield for a flight to Cairo, the first leg of his homeward journey. Since Myers had missed the services on the 11th, he could not have been stationed aboard Catoctin.