Of God and Country

By Larry "Neil" Henderson and Nick Henderson

Arthur grew up in rural Canada in the 1910s and often questioned God. He dreamed of visiting New York, a land of stars and celebrities, and eventually made the journey. However, his doubts about life's meaning followed him. Arthur's charisma impressed his friends, and he landed an acting job with a road company. Unfortunately, the company went bankrupt in 1931, leaving Arthur stranded in San Francisco.

Following a series of life-altering events, such as the loss of his job, the passing of his beloved mentor and closest friend, and the death of his mother, he found comfort in the words of a kind-hearted priest. Through their conversations, he rediscovered a sense of purpose that aligned with his earlier aspirations.

As World War II intensified, Father Henderson was asked to serve his country as a chaplain. Despite his aversion to conflict, he answered the call and went on to become the "Most Decorated Chaplain" of that war. Even though war was not part of his plan, he stood tall in the face of adversity and displayed extraordinary bravery and heroism. Father Henderson's story is a testament to his character strength and commitment to serving others.

A Pentagon position follows, and he helps form policy on post-war agendas like freedom of religion and human rights. When he hears a confession he can't reveal due to church and judicial law, he's thrown into a world of espionage. Caught between serving God or Country, he must choose a side, but the cost may be his life.

After retiring from government, he was appointed by Pope Paul VI to restore artwork in Latin America for the church. The Church and the State were monitoring him; it was unclear who was following him. He was involved in a massive auto accident with several cars and trucks in the northern part of Mexico.
A veil of suspicion surrounded his death in 1970 at age 63.
It is an aspirational saga of an unsung hero.
A biographical novel based on a true story.

Chaplain Colonel Arthur Benedict Henderson (OFM)

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350959215

Larry "Neil" Henderson

NICHOLAS "NICK" HENDERSON Music production, content coordinator and creator for Equus Production. Student at Portland State University.

Book preview

Cover of Of God and Country by Larry "Neil" Henderson

Copyright © 2024 – Larry Neil Henderson

U.S. Copyright Registration Number: TXu 2-403-062

Registration Numbers: 2194144, 2071331, and 2095921

All rights reserved.

Published []

ISBN [specific ISBN] (paperback) 979-8-35095-920-8

ISBN [specific ISBN] (ebook) 979-8-35095-921-5

Dedicated To The Memory Of

Bill and Leona Henderson

Father Ben

Santa Barbara, CA 1939

Contents

PREFACE

AWAKEN

YOUTH CHRONICLE

PEACE RIVER TO NEW YORK

THEATER AND ART

A TOURING COMPANY

CITY BY THE BAY

CALI JALOPY

SANTA BARBARA

WAR

FUBAR

INNOCENT

POSTWAR CLEANUP

PENTAGON

THEATER OF THE PECULIAR

I SPY

VACATION

FISHERMEN

THE CONFESSION

CLOSING SERMON

FIRENZE

LATIN AMERICA

PYXIS

PREFACE

A biographical novel based on a true story.

This is my story about Colonel (Chaplain) Benedict Arthur Henderson, the most decorated chaplain of World War II.

Growing up in Canada’s challenging rural life, Arthur struggled for answers while attempting to understand God’s plan, pushing himself to the edge. His life was a testament to the power of bravery, passion, and unwavering devotion. After discovering his true calling, he fearlessly pursued it with every ounce. His legacy reminds us that we can achieve greatness by listening to our hearts and following our dreams.

This is the chaplain’s narrative, as told to me. As the colonel’s nephew, I have been fortunate enough to have access to accounts from family and friends, and stories passed down to me. My son and I have utilized this valuable information to create this story. We have used some fictitious names to protect privacy. Additionally, we have relied on various sources, such as newspaper articles and historical records, to gather information. We searched the National Archives, the National Personnel Records Center of the United States of America, and the Franciscan Santa Barbara Mission Archive Library.

Specific periods in his life require clarification. The National Archives and National Personnel Records report we received redacted numerous pages and text. As evaluators or assessors, we used our imagination to fill in these gaps in my uncle’s life story. Metaphysical history is what we call it, incorporating a combination of personality, personal interactions, artistic relationships, letters, and metaphysics. Yes, metaphysical impressions. We believe that, as we live, we leave our psychological imprints on the world. The past is not solely carved in stone or recorded by pen or film, but history is also etched into the flesh, bones, and memories of human beings and travels silently through the veins of our descendants. All written history is suspect in its accuracy and manipulation, so we have versions that do not tell the whole story. Historical and metaphysical history travels through people.

He was a radiant soul, a magnetic person, and an inclusive spirit. We have compiled this story based on Chaplain Henderson’s life, attempting to capture his compassionate, humorous, and charismatic personality.

CHAPTER 1

AWAKEN

It was a cold day in January 1970. The phone rang when I woke up in a budget motel in El Paso. My father rarely called, primarily because he disagreed with what I was doing: touring with my rock band, doing shows, and having fun. I was rebellious, not caring about anything.

The news is that my uncle sustained injuries in an accident—an accident in Mexico! He is the most incredible person in my life—an artist, a war hero, an acclaimed priest, and a bright star. So, I am visiting him for a few days and plan to catch up with my mates in New Orleans. It will be a short adventure.

It’s morning under the moody skies of northern Mexico. I look at the old hospital building, standing in a flowering bougainvillea plant and smoking a small nugget of hashish I hid in my Beatle boot.

I reminisce:

"Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,

For I would ride with you upon the wind,

Run on the top of the disheveled tide,

And dance upon the mountains like a flame."

It’s from a Yeats poem my uncle once sent me.

I gather inner strength and enter. In the hall, outside his room, a nurse appears and asks my name. I stand silent and hold the blood-stained, mutilated eyeglasses, his glasses. I can see that the head those glasses have been on is in bad shape. Feeling flushed and alarmed, I grapple with that image, thinking this is more serious than I envision.

The staff speaks fast, and I don’t understand much Spanish, so it’s all crazy gibberish to me. Through broken English, I find out it has been three days since the accident. So here I am in Matamoros, Mexico. I enter the room. My uncle is lying prone in bed, in traction, with bandages wrapped loosely around his head. A somber room with dirty walls, peeling paint, aged medical gear, and a four-post metal bed frame. The atmosphere is gloomy. A faint light flickers on the walls. Above a concrete block mantelpiece hangs a handsome cross in oak wood, bearing the figure of a stern Christ. I settle down onto a light green upholstered bedside chair. My uncle asks who’s there. I answer. Slowly, he reacts. Then he smiles and becomes warm in response. I catch on to how serious his condition is. He implicitly lets me know his desire to talk and to tell me his story. He was always a wonderful storyteller. However, his theatrical and exaggerated style was limited by the accident. With unwavering determination, he begins.

He spoke of an urgency to get to Texas, but the reason is vague. He floats in and out of consciousness, lost in his private world.

A truth for gringos in Mexico: Don’t drive at night. I assume he knows that. I asked him about the accident, but he didn’t recall much.

Then he speaks up.

Instinct, he insists, not heroism, yet they gave me all these awards.

I see a small angel-light worry stone on the stand next to his bed, and I remind him he was just in a horrible accident. Again, he keeps saying instinct and seems to wonder if it was some internal drive or a learned trait. I shrug my shoulders, and he continues. Yeah, both or neither were possible. With God’s help, we develop into the people we are.

He speaks about discernment between right and wrong and how we struggle to be positive and face life’s challenges directly. The zodiac and decisions based on the stars or horoscopes are understandable because of the splendor of the stars, planets, and constellations, and all that, he thinks, does make some sense. He does not accept the zodiac as gospel but insists, It’s all within the universe—God’s universe.

I know he loves stargazing and could name a number of the constellations. He continues:

Christianity does not adequately answer these perplexing questions by merely invoking faith, he continues. "Science seeks to provide an explanation that is also incomplete, but isn’t it true that human curiosity is a facet of God? Relying solely on the concept of faith has become increasingly unacceptable. Anything mysterious, like cancer, space travel, the universe, even to say, ‘God called him home,’ is answered by the word faith. So, I’ve concluded that the universe is indifferent to God and that indifference is what God wants. Of course, that thought is merely subjective. With the support of the Catholic Church and everything it implies, I have helped people through difficult times and plan to keep doing so. There are deep mysteries within me, and I cannot deny them."

He stops and stares directly into my eyes. He then closes his.

I am awake.

CHAPTER 2

YOUTH CHRONICLE

My uncle’s stories mesmerize me. He is not holding back, and it’s hard for me to hold my emotions. Wretched and drained, I watch nurses and doctors as they bustle around. Their voices reach high and low notes, yearning for a melody.

He captured his early life through a series of short anecdotes that were engaging and captivating.

Pioneer Family

He grew up on a homestead outside of Peace River, Canada. During dreadful winters, the thermometer mercury went to the bottom and stayed there for three weeks. That’s more than forty degrees below zero, and it was a dismal place, rural and isolated.

His father was involved with constructing a bridge across the frozen river. White-out conditions prevailed, and he fell into the river. The accident happened fast. He stuck his fist out of the cracked ice and, fortunately, felt the rescue rope and grabbed it tight. Two workers rushed to help, followed by a larger group of first responders. His arm shivered and turned numb when pulled from the frigid waters. He was taken away in a horse-drawn ambulance.

The home was a cabin-like structure with a small barn out back and cows grazed in the surrounding snowy pasture. Charles Henderson, his father, was handsome and a gentleman. After the accident, he looked disheveled, tired, and rugged for a man in his forties. He had been hardworking but was now bedridden. The family gathered around his bed. Blanch was a mother and a pioneer woman, a pretty woman with long brown hair and sunken cheeks, always in a full-length country dress. She would hold the youngest brother, Wilbur, on her hip. Wade, the middle brother, would stand with her in the creases of her flowing gown. Wade seemed to carry mischievousness in his eyes and a dirty face, a little rascal.

My uncle was the eldest of the three children. As a teenager, he was shy and skinny and kept his hands in his pockets. He just stood in the corner and observed. His eyes would dart around the room, absorbing emotions, expressions, and body language. He felt anxious around his family and yet didn’t know why.

His father’s recovery was slow, and at