Wednesday, 23 December  2009. A clear, cool day in Norfolk, Virginia. On board USS Iwo Jima (LHD 7), two lines of ship officers stand assembled in lines facing each other during the early morning. At the end of the lines stood the XO and CO. Suddenly, an announcement rings out over the 1MC to the ship crew, "Lieutenant Daigle, United States Navy, departing."

 
With that announcement, the Bos'n Mate pipes on his whistle and my fellow officers crisply salute me as I walk briskly through the center of the formation with a return salute. Reaching the end of the line and standing on the quarterdeck, I shake hands with the executive officer, Captain Thomas Chassee, and also the commanding officer, Captain Jeffry Amick. Then I picked up my sea bags, and turning to the officer of the watch, I say, "I have permission to go ashore." He in turn says, "Go ashore."
 
Thus marked my last day onboard the USS IWO JIMA, which had been my home-a place of professional friendship-and my parish church-for the past two years. Those two years went by very fast indeed. During that time, I saw the CO and XO turnover, as well as most of the Wardroom. I had become the "old hand". During that two year period, I went through pre-deployment workups; certifications; deployment to the Middle East; a four week mission immediately afterwards; and a five week mission to Ghana during President Obama's trip to Ghana in 2009. Following all this, the ship entered the yards for repairs and maintenance.
 
My time aboard included moments of tears and laughter. It included times of sadness and joy. Reflecting on the past two years, I'd like to share one story of sadness, and one story of happiness that stand out in my mind. These are just two small examples of what it means to be a priest and chaplain aboard a ship as a member of ship's company. I could, of course, give countless other examples and sea stories that come to mind.

One of a chaplain's important ministerial responsibilities is to deliver American Red Cross messages (AMCROSS). Most of the time, those messages officially notify a service member of a death or serious illness in the family. Sometimes the members know about the news (via through email or a phone call); sometimes they do not. And so the reaction to the news is dependent on whether the member has knowledge of what's going on at home, and the severity and suddenness of the news. The chaplain is called upon in all the situations to present the news in a sensitive fashion, and to be there for spiritual and emotional support as necessary. The chaplain also provides advice to the chain of command, as necessary.
 
First the sad story. One evening a chief came in to my office. He had in his hands the AMCROSS message pertaining to one of his sailors. It would be a difficult one. The sailor's mother had died unexpectedly and rather young. I read it, and asked the chief to go ahead and bring the sailor into my office. Returning a few minutes later, the chief entered my office with the young lady. The chief left the office. Asking her to take a seat, I delivered the news to her. The instantaneous shock of the news caused her to fall off the chair onto the deck and weep uncontrollably. She cried for maybe 10-15 minutes straight.
 
In caring for her in this time of profound sadness and vulnerability, I had the privilege of being entrusted by the military for this position. I was the person assigned by the Navy in a special way to provide hope and comfort in my role and capacity as chaplain. As a chaplain, it was a time to bring the presence of God to one of our sailors in distress and need. This story of sadness represents in its own way what it means to serve as a chaplain in the U.S Navy. It signifies one of the responsibilities I am entrusted with by the command-to aid and comfort those sailors wounded and suffering anguish in heart, mind and soul. Sadness and shocking news can hit a sailor from any direction at any time: it could come from the death of a parent; the loss of a baby through miscarriage; a brother admitted to intensive care because of a car accident. All of these things are just a couple of examples of what came to me though AMCROSS messages, and that I was expected to deliver. Once delivered, I was there as a comforting and supporting person of faith. In short, over my two years there were many instances where I was involved with people at their most sensitive and difficult times of their lives. Every Navy chaplain has many stories like mine. It is part of our sacred responsibility in caring for others.
 
And now for a story of happiness. There really are so many that come to mind. But I will share one small story about a baptism on board when the ship was berthed at Pier 89 in Manhattan during the spring of 2009. Prior to coming into the Navy, my last parish assignment was at St. Leo Parish in Stamford, CT. I am still friends with many of the people and families there, including the Quinteros family. Sometimes it is not easy to keep up with everyone, given the high tempo of operations as well as the far off deployments that take me thousands of miles away. However, in a most happy set of circumstances, the ship was very close-only an hour or so away from Stamford-last year during Fleet Week in New York City.
 
Visiting at an earlier date with the Quinteros family, they were delighted that I would be close by during Fleet Week, as they wanted me to come and baptize their baby boy at the parish. I offered that we could have the baptism onboard the ship if they would like, after getting all necessary church and military approvals. Their eyes lit up, and the excitement about coming aboard the ship and having the baptism there took over all members of the immediate and extended family. And so during the middle of Fleet Week NYC, the family streamed across the quarterdeck and gathered for the baptism. All were truly at the height of happiness because of this unique opportunity to celebrate the Sacrament for their little baby boy on an active Navy warship. Having lived around the world, including in Japan, this was indeed one of the most unique experiences in their Catholic faith. Their son's baptism is now registered with the Archdiocese of the Military. The joy and happiness of the entire family was palpable and effusive, and once again, I was privileged in the sacred ministry of caring for others. It is a joy of mine to keep up with my friends, and means a great deal to me as a person and a priest.
 
Truly, it was a privilege to serve onboard USS Iwo Jima for the past two years. I may have departed the ship on 23 December 2009. But the people and experiences of IWO JIMA will always remain a part of me.