There Are No Atheists in Fox Holes

by Hattie Dyck

– GIVEN TO ME BY THE LATE HERB PEPPARD OF TRURO AND BROUGHT ONCE AGAIN TO MY ATTENTION BY A POST ON FACEBOOK BY JANET WHITE OF ENFIELD

WHO SENT A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO GRANDAUGHTER MYAH WHITE WHO IS CURRENTLY SERVING ABOARD HMCS ST. JOHN’S.

CANADIAN FORCES DAY WAS ON JUNE 6 TH .

“THERE ARE NO ATHEISTS IN FOX HOLES” That was a saying during the Second World War.

How can this be, he said without fear of contradiction? Surely every soldier

didn’t become religious when he was in a small hole in the ground with

artillery shells exploding all around him. Surely every soldier didn’t come

face to face with his own mortality and wonder what lay beyond life. Or did

he?

I’ve had some experiences in fox holes. I’d like to tell you about one of

those experiences. It was January 1944 in the mountains of Italy. We had

just taken a hill from the Germans and we were ordered to dig in to

consolidate our position. Norm McLeod and I decided to share a fox hole.

With shells exploding all around us, it didn’t take very long to dig a crude

hole in the ground.

It was cold and wet with a mixture of snow and rain. The only shelter around

was a flimsy tent the officers used for a command post. The rest of us were

exposed to the weather. Our company was spread out in a rough perimeter

facing toward enemy lines. It was our responsibility to be prepared in case

of an enemy attack. We felt very vulnerable. Soaked through, we were

cold, scared, miserable and exhausted. As night came on we tried to get

some rest. Rest we needed. Although artillery shells exploded occasionally

and mud and dirt would fall down on us, we felt fairly safe in our little hole in

the ground. Of course, the fox hole was not deep enough for us to stand up

in.

The only comfort and warmth we could get was to hug each other. Gone

was the self-pride and false bravado of the past. This hugging another

comrade was a necessity. It was survival.

Then we were faced with another problem! A combination of rain and snow

and seepage started to bring icy cold water into the fox hole. It was bad

enough to be wet, but to lie in a puddle of icy cold water, that was

unbearable. We took turns bailing the water out. We used our helmets. We

took the inside liner out of our helmets and used the metal part only. So, we

bailed in this manner. It became very useful in another way also. It made a

good pot to urinate in. We felt it might be suicide to get out of the fox hole

to urinate with shells bursting occasionally, so we did our job in the helmet,

and then poured it out over the rim of the fox hole. Finally we were too

exhausted to even bale and laid down again to try to get some rest.

Before I drifted off to sleep, Norm seemed to have something he wanted to

get off his chest. I had no choice but to listen.

”You know, Herb,” he said through chattering teeth, “ I wasn’t meant to be

a soldier.”

I didn’t say anything but I thought to myself, “Who in hell was?”

Norm’s prayer that horrible night was to live to see the dawning of another

day. He wanted to live through the night.

His prayer got me thinking. What made me think that I was invulnerable?

What made me think that I was going to live through this hellish war? If a

shell landed in the fox hole or even real close we could be killed instantly. I

started to do some serious thinking.

I was 23 years of age. I felt in my heart that I was not going to be killed.

Then I got to thinking – that’s the way some of my buddies had felt- they

believed that they were going to survive the war. They talked openly about

things they planned to do after the war, when peace and security would

become a way of life. My best friend, Smitty had great plans for the future.

Lieutenant Airth did also, as did Sgt. Briddon and Cpl. McIvor. These

comrades had exciting plans for when they returned home. But they all died

in a pool of their own blood. I felt in my heart that I would return home to my

family and loved ones. But would I ever be the same person again? I was

certain I’d be a better person, a more caring and loving person.

Then I got thinking of the soldier next to me. This cold, wet, miserable

individual I was hugging had experienced a great transformation. My mind

went back to former times. Norm had been a doubter, a disbeliever, and an

atheist. He continually mocked any of us who professed to be Christians,

and most of us were Christians. We believed in God and the religion we

had been taught since childhood. However, Norm would have none of this

He would shout at us “ wake up you poor bastards, are you so blinded by

faith that you cannot see the hypocrisy of it all? How can you believe in a

God who would let this cruel, useless slaughter go on? I’ll tell you this, I will

never cower down. I will never pray to a fictitious someone or something

that I know doesn’t exist!"

And yet, on that cold, wet, miserable night in January 1944 that’s exactly

what Norm McLeod did. Curled up in a ball next to me with teeth chattering

I heard him pray to God. I heard him promise to be a better person if he

was spared to live another day.

It was then that the haunting saying came back to me. A saying I had

hardly believed before. But the proof of the saying was lying next to me, the

wet, cold comrade I was hugging in this slimy, greasy hole in the ground.

This disbeliever had become a believer. This proved the saying beyond any

shadow of a doubt.

THERE ARE NO ATHEISTS IN FOX HOLES.