It is accompanied by the song “Sky Pilot,” a 1968 hit by Eric Burdon & the Animals, released on the album The Twain Shall Meet. I’m not a big fan of the piece (to say the least; my band would be called “The Rational Animals”), but one can see why it was chosen: “sky pilot” refers to a military chaplain, and “the song is a balladic slice of life story about a chaplain who blesses a body of troops just before they set out on an overnight raid or patrol, and then retires to await their return” (source).
Personally I would have been much more interested in hearing what the chaplain was saying, but it may be presumed, by this time, that he is doing the blessing and Mass in English. It is hard to tell what rite he is following. The fact that he is turned toward the troops does not in and of itself determine between the hybrid rite of 65/67 and the Novus Ordo, as by the mid-60s nearly everyone was doing Mass versus populum. The fact that there is no genuflection immediately after the consecration of the wine (as it seems to me), and that there also seem to be no altar cards, would argue in favor of this being the Novus Ordo.
I would certainly be interested in hearing more from readers who know about how the liturgical reform played out in the military chaplaincy during this period of upheaval on the Catholic Church.
With all the respect in the world for both the soldiers and their chaplains, one cannot help contrasting this scene of postconciliar liturgy with some of the many striking images we have of the traditional Mass being said on the battlefield earlier in the twentieth century.
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| Famous image of Fr. Kapuan, celebrating "ad orientem" on a jeep; at this moment he is turned to the people to say "Dominus vobiscum" |
Some more great photos here.
One last war-related matter. Years ago I remember reading an article about a man who had been a prisoner of war in Vietnam for a good many years. The years he was in camp corresponded to the rollout of the liturgical reform culminating in the Novus Ordo. When he was released and returned to the United States, he had a sort of Rip van Winkle experience: nothing was the same as he remembered it. When he had left, Mass was still the Roman Rite in Latin, ad orientem, communion kneeling, etc.; and when he returned, it was the Modern Rite, in English, versus populum, communion standing, etc.
He was confused and distraught, but as his faith had never wavered, he continued to go to Mass. Nevertheless, he admitted in an interview that the only way he could get through the Mass each Sunday was to employ the same mental techniques of blocking out his surroundings and enduring deprivation that he had had to learn in the prison camp (one either had to learn to cope, or perish). He confronted the mental torture with the tools he had acquired. Then, decades later, he discovered quite by chance that the Latin Mass was still being said in a nearby city. He began to attend it, and said it felt like being released anew from prison.
If that is not a striking story, I don’t know what is.
