Military chaplains: An Army captain keeps tough soldiers in touch with their softer side

The divide between home front and front line is bridged by a chaplain's good ear and ever-present video camera.

from the November 6, 2007 edition

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A self-diagnosed introvert, Fischer doesn't readily confide in people, and when she jokes with her paratroopers, there's an underlying calm – some chaplains approach soldiers with a slap on the back; Fischer greets them with a wave and a smile.

Fischer, who has never shed the childhood nickname of Pinkie, left her native Brooklyn, N.Y., to study architectural engineering in Oklahoma, where she fell in love with the idea of missionary work. So she switched to the Rhema Bible Training Center and prepared to leave for the Philippines as a missionary.

"But I just didn't have peace in my heart about making that move," she says. So she waited. She prayed. "And that's when the Lord put it in my heart to be a chaplain in the military."

Not exactly sure what that was, she researched it. At peace with what she learned, she enlisted in the National Guard and set about meeting the chaplaincy's requirements – a bachelor's degree followed by seminary, which she completed at Oral Roberts University. In 2005, she was deployed in Iraq. In early 2007, she once again packed up with her paratroopers, this time for Afghanistan.

She is part of a chaplaincy whose focus has expanded and evolved over its 232-year history. Concerned with the high rates of venereal disease among troops in World War II, chaplains zeroed in on personal morals. In Vietnam, they initiated drug counseling. And since 1974, when the country shifted to an all-volunteer military, chaplains took on family counseling.

So Fischer's mission specifically includes helping soldiers build healthy marriages. It echoes what civilian pastors do: premarital counseling and helping young men and women see themselves and their behavior more clearly. "And then, being Airborne," she adds, "it's a different sheet of music altogether with the [operations] tempo we have and the various missions we do and back-to-back deployments." Not to mention the limits security concerns place on what soldiers can discuss on open phone lines and in e-mail. This is where the video camera comes in handy, giving families back home a glimpse of daily life downrange.

For the top brass, this is money well spent. For Fischer, it's religious conviction in action. "Marriage is an institution that God has established, and you see that all throughout Scripture," she says, from Genesis through the New Testament. "Even God Himself talks about how it pains him to see divorce," Fischer adds, pointing to a passage in Malachi that enjoins men from "putting away" – or divorce. "All it does is bring division and separation between those that love each other. So by any means necessary, I try to work with the couple to keep that marriage together."

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On a breezy April day Fischer has flown north from Salerno to Bagram Air Base to poke her video camera into the workaday lives of Task Force Fury's soldiers, also known back home at Fort Bragg as dad or mom, husband or wife, son or daughter.

From under the floppy brim of her boonie hat, Fischer frowns at gathering clouds that could threaten a group shot for a Mother's Day greeting. But within seconds she breaks into a toothy smile as another cloud gathers before her: the blue-gray camouflage of soldiers' fatigues.

They crowd together, laughing, and Fischer, camera raised, gestures for them to squeeze in tighter. "On behalf of the Combat Logistical Patrol here at Bagram Airfield," a staff sergeant calls out. And 30 voices bellow, "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!" In the hoopla that follows, they tease Fischer about making them work overtime. "I'll buy you dinner," she counters, offering a choice of base cafeterias.

Camera still in hand, Fischer wanders the motor pool. Crouching next to the rear axle of a truck she records two soldiers in T-shirts pounding lug nuts loose. Fischer will later edit these and other scenes into a 10-minute video and send it via the Web to Capt. Benjamin Coffman, head of the unit's Family Readiness Group at Ft. Bragg. He organizes monthly meetings where, on average, 50 spouses and "lots of fun, noisy kids" come together to exchange stories and dip into the world of a spouse, child, or parent.

Back in Afghanistan, Fischer saunters up to another group of soldiers and with good cheer starts the process again. The architecture student-turned-chaplain knows the importance of a solid foundation.

•On Nov. 6: Part 3. Army Chaplain Shmuel Felzenberg, an ultra-Orthodox rabbi, reaches across faith lines in work with Afghans and American soldiers alike.

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