Fr. Kapaun Guild Coordinator Scott Carter poses alongside a print of the Jeep Mass image that hangs in the gathering space at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Wichita. (Advance photo)

Famous Jeep Mass photo turns 75

By Scott Carter

Seventy-Five years ago this month, Col. Raymond Skeehan, then a Major, was absorbed in Mass, pondering everything he and the men of the Army’s 1st Cavalry Division had been through in Korea. As a U.S. Army doctor, he had saved the lives of dozens of wounded men, but had seen dozens more slip through his fingers.

The date was Oct. 7, 1950, and the troops were preparing to cross the border into North Korea, uncertain of what might await them in enemy territory. As the Mass came to an end, Skeehan raised a camera to his face and snapped a photo. The moment was etched in time, Fr. Emil Kapaun with chasuble and combat boots, hands raised in the orans position, saying “Dominus Vobiscum”, “The Lord be with you,” just before the dismissal.

Little did Skeehan expect that the image would later be seen by millions of people across the world and become one of the most iconic images of the war, or that Catholic faithful would yearn to see the image hanging someday in the future as a tapestry on the façade of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome as part of a canonization celebration. All he knew was that this priest brought him peace in the time of war, both in sacrament and by his very presence.

Venerable Emil Kapaun arrived in Korea in July 1950, just three weeks after communist North Korea invaded its neighbor to the south. The fighting in the early months of the war was desperate. Fr. Kapaun quickly went to work on the front lines, visiting men to pray and boost morale. At times, he would celebrate Mass on one side of a hill with artillery fire pounding the other side, merely a few hundred yards away. He ran (or rode a bicycle) to the sound of gunfire, dragging the wounded to safety even through a hail of bullets.

At one point, his pipe was shot out of his mouth on a journey up a mountain to visit troops. “Three times I myself nearly got killed, but always the Lord spares me, so I can be of service to the soldiers,” he wrote in a letter to his childhood pastor, Msgr. John Sklenar. 

The enlisted men said the power of his service was palpable. “He climbed many a hill and mountain just so he could make some lonely G.I. feel a little better after talking to him,” PFC Ernest Ritter testified.

But Fr. Kapaun didn’t just bring himself; he brought the love, peace, and healing of Christ to a place that normally seemed devoid of God’s presence. Just months before, in a series of radio addresses, the chaplain had testified: “The peace which God gives is a gift which exists even in suffering, in want, or even in time of war.” Now he was proving it.

We can draw great inspiration from the heroism and dedication of Venerable Emil Kapaun on the battlefield.

As a priest, his greatest desire was to bring Christ to his “boys.” He had the heart of the Good Shepherd, who left the safety of the 99 to go in search of those most in need. No matter our calling in life, Venerable Emil Kapaun is a model and intercessor for the fortitude and dedication to seek out those most in need of Christ. We need not fear obstacles or rejection when seeking out the lost and lonely.

Less than a month after the famous Jeep Mass photo of Fr. Kapaun was snapped, the priest celebrated four Masses on All Saints Day around the town of Unsan, North Korea. As history would have it, these Masses would be his last. The full force of the Chinese Army was waiting in ambush. In the early hours of the morning on All Souls Day, the enemy unleashed an attack that devastated Fr. Kapaun’s unit. As always, Fr. Kapaun went to work serving his men both physically and spiritually. His actions were so timeless that he would later be recognized with the Medal of Honor.

At one point during the fighting, Fr. Kapaun ran into Sergeant Bill Richardson.

“Do you know what today is, Sergeant?” Father asked. “It’s All Souls Day.”

“I sure hope someone is looking out for our souls, Father,” came Richardson’s skeptical reply.

“He is, he is,” was all the chaplain needed to say. God had made sure Fr. Kapaun was there.

Scott Carter is coordinator for the Diocese of Wichita’s Office for the Beatification of Venerable Emil Kapaun.