Chaplain Dies From Iraq War Injuries

NEW HOPE, Minnesota, JUNE 22, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Father Timothy Vakoc, an Army chaplain who was injured in Iraq in 2004, passed away Saturday at the age of 49.

The priest's personalized CaringBridge Web site reported that he was "surrounded by family and friends who prayed him into heaven" at St. Therese nursing home in New Hope

He was wounded on May 29, the 12th anniversary of his priestly ordination, when his humvee was struck by roadside bomb while returning from celebrating Mass for the soldiers in Mosul.

The chaplain was transported through Germany back to Washington D.C., having lost an eye and sustained a severe brain injury. He was later awarded a Purple Heart, the Bronze Star and the Combat Action Award.

Father Vakoc once said to his sister, "The safest place for me to be is in the center of God's will, and if that is in the line of fire, that's where I'll be."

The priest traveled a long journey over the five years from the explosion to his death. He was initially categorized by doctors as being in a "vegetative state," but was later upgraded to a "minimally responsive state."

It took almost two and a half years from his return to the United States before he began to speak again.

Two weeks ago, in a Mass celebrating the 17th anniversary of his ordination, a journal entry on the retired chaplain's Web site reported that he was able to sing and follow along with the prayers.

It noted that he was participating in Bible studies at the nursing home, and giving blessings with a partially impaired right arm.

Archbishop Harry Flynn, who was archbishop of St. Paul and Minneapolis when the chaplain returned to the states, celebrated a Mass for the priest one year after his injury.

The prelate said of Father Vakoc: "The Eucharist has entered into his flesh in a significant way, and the suffering Jesus Christ is here before us. Today we pray that Eucharist, which is right here, Tim Vakoc in this wheelchair, will be a sign of Jesus Christ for us and that it will deepen our faith."

Rest in peace, brave warrior of the Lord. You were an angel on earth ... you're with the angels now. God bless and protect our incredible Armed Forces and the intrepid Military Chaplains who give so much to comfort our brave troops on the frontlines.

Background piece

Ministry of Intentional Presence

"I live with (the soldiers), work with them, eat with them, care for them, listen to them, counsel them.

The soldiers know if you are real and genuinely care or not. The soldiers see me out there with them, and that makes a difference."

It has been over three years since Catholic Chaplain, Major Tim Vakoc (pronounced VAH-Kitch), of the U.S. Army's 44th Corps Support Battalion, suffered a severe head wound while returning from a Mass he delivered to soldiers outside the Iraqi city of Mosul. The Robbinsdale, MN, native was the first Army chaplain seriously injured in the Iraq war. For more Stella Borealis posts and links, see here.

**********

Father Tim Vakoc's funeral will be at 10 a.m. Friday at the Cathedral of St. Paul. Visitation is 4 to 8 p.m. Thursday at Gearty-Delmore Funeral Chapel, 15800 37th Avenue North, Plymouth

Father Vakoc is still at the St. Therese's Nursing Home, 8000 Bass Lake Road, New Hope, MN 55428 - Please continue to pray for his recovery

************

Army Chaplain on Why Our Fallen Soldiers Won't Be Forgotten
By Fr. Donald Van Alstyne, MIC, U.S. Army Chaplain (Captain)

After some moments of private prayer, soldiers begin to gather at the ecumenical memorial service that I lead as a U.S. Army chaplain. The symbols of our battlefield memorial speak to the deeper sentiments of our soldiers. The helmet and identification tags signify the fallen soldier's identity.

The combat boots represent the final march of his last battle. And his inverted rifle with the bayonet stuck in the ground signifies a time for prayer — a break in the action to memorialize this fallen soldier's ultimate sacrifice.

As we pray for the fallen and eulogize them, tears roll down the distraught faces of the silent soldiers. The moment of painful truth comes when the roll call begins. The Command Sergeant Major stands before the congregation and shouts out the names of soldiers in the unit. After each name, a soldier stands up and says, "Here, Sergeant Major."

The next name is shouted out, "PFC [last name]." No one responds. "PFC [last name]." Still no response. "PFC Daniel [last name]!" a third time. Yet again, no response. Then the Sergeant Major announces, "Killed in action on 21 April 2004 at Shkin fire base."

There is a moment of silence. Then a three-gun salute is followed by Taps. This becomes a profound and sacred time for all of the soldiers. As a chaplain, I am pleased to lead these brave men and women in saying their final farewell to their comrades in arms who died in a firefight near Shkin, Afghanistan.

Preparing Soldiers for Battle

Tragically, this scene has taken place several times during my nine-month deployment out of our base in Kandahar, which has seen a lot of action.

Every time I gather for such a memorial service and celebrate a separate Mass for those soldiers who were Catholic, I draw upon the spirituality of our Marian Founder, the Venerable Servant of God Stanislaus Papczynski, who will be beatified on Set. 16.

He reportedly ministered to soldiers dying on the battlefield in his own day and called our Congregation of Marians to offer our very lives for the victims of wars. My soul, like his was, is filled with anguish to see young men and women cut down in the flower of their youth for such a noble cause — the defense of one's country and, in our day, an end to the scourge of terrorism.

Like our Marian Founder, I know that one of the most important persons on the battlefield is the chaplain, standing side by side with the soldiers who are in harm's way. For many soldiers, this is the first time that they are confronted with the reality of death and the conviction that the values we hold dear are worth fighting for.

I see the soldiers quickly bond to each other during this challenging time that will shape the rest of their lives. They become aware that they possess a spirituality that is starting to come alive, hungering for prayer and direction. All of a sudden attending Mass, going to confession, reading the Bible, and saying the Rosary have new meaning for them.

For this reason, it is very important that my ministry team and I are in contact with our soldiers whenever they are preparing to go into battle. I circulate among them while they are in the staging area, arranging their gear, inspecting their weapons, and receiving the final briefing on their mission.

Soldiers tell me stories about their families — how much they miss their wives and children. They ask me, in case anything happens to them, to make sure that their family knows how much they love them.

Then comes the moment when the call is made for the soldiers to line up and get ready to board their assigned helicopters. Just before boarding, the Brigade Chaplain calls all the soldiers to prayer. Each chaplain serving under him has a part in this brief service to read Scripture, to offer prayers for protection and success, and to call to mind our sacred duty in protecting the world from terrorism.

At the conclusion, the Brigade Chaplain announces that any Catholic soldier is invited to come to me for confession and to receive Holy Communion. They are eager. And after I have administered the Sacraments to them, I see confidence and peace on their faces.

Expect the Unexpected

We also learn to expect the unexpected at our fire base in Orgune, within eyesight of the Pakistani border.

One Thursday morning in summer, I am saying an outdoor Mass on an altar made up of ammunition crates. The sky is a deep blue, and we are frying in 100-degree plus temperatures. We are near the Tactical Operational Center (TOC) close to the border.

All of a sudden, an airman runs out of the TOC and whispers in the ear of another airman attending Mass. Then both dash away.

As Mass continues, we hear the revving of Apache helicopter engines, which are now swarming in the air, waiting their turn to land and fuel up. Soon, they are in the air and disappear in formation beyond the 8,000-foot high mountains.

My Chaplain Assistant, Staff Sergeant Robert [last name], leaves Mass and then returns. He whispers in my ear that our soldiers are engaging the enemy — the al-Qaida and Taliban — who have crossed the mountainous Pakistani border to ambush our patrol. I ask our soldiers attending Mass to pray for their comrades.

When Mass ends, I am whisked off by helicopter to Salerno, which is a nearby Forward Operating Base (FOB) that has a Field Surgical Team hospital (FST). We are anticipating casualties from the battle.

We race over, only to discover that two severely wounded soldiers have died, just as the helicopter landed. I immediately administer the Last Rites — both soldiers were Catholic. Then I pray for the medics and the pilots who had made such a heroic effort to save these soldiers' lives. I will never forget these and similar experiences during my deployment in Afghanistan. My priesthood deepened in profound ways. It didn't become easier to minister to the wounded, the dying, and their buddies.

What happened instead is that I was brought to new levels of awareness of the mystery of suffering and death. I recognized how precious and short life is. I became more focused on who we really are in the eyes of God. It became crystal clear that our lives are framed — defined — by the love and mercy of God, for each of us and for the whole world.

I saw the impact of the Sacraments in the lives of our soldiers. I saw how they were transformed by grace, and this nourished my priesthood. I saw their trust in God and in each other — their willingness to choose sacrifice through selfless service.

Perhaps Specialist Elizabeth [last name] expresses best the sentiments of many of our soldiers when she says,

"I feel saddened that so many people have died around the world in this war on terrorism. I am comforted and inspired, like so many others in my country, to have done my small part to remember those who have fallen."

She concludes, "It is good that people like myself do something beyond ourselves to give honor to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for what we have as free Americans. It is consoling for me to know that if I happen to die [in Afghanistan], I will never be forgotten."

Please join me in remembering our fallen soldiers in prayer. May we as a nation never forget!

(This story garnered "First Place for Best Article" among religious order magazines in the 2005 Catholic Press Association Awards. It first appeared in the Fall 2004 edition of Marian Helper magazine.)

He suffered with brain damage and subsequent stroke and infection and suffered for five years, may he rest in peace:

Prayers Needed: Father Timothy Vakoc, Army Chaplain, seriously wounded in Iraq

Knights mourn death of U.S. Army Chaplain and brother Knight of Columbus

Father H. Timothy Vakoc

6/23/2009 - The Knights of Columbus mourn the death of Father H. Timothy Vakoc, a priest of the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis who died June 20. Father Vakoc was the first Army chaplain to be gravely injured in the Iraq War. A 31-year member of the Order, Father Vakoc belonged Father William Blum to Council 3656 in New Hope, Minn., and Nicollet Assembly 526 in Minneapolis.

His funeral Mass was to be celebrated June 26 at St. Paul Cathedral in St. Paul. Father Vakoc, was ordained in 1992 and served in two parishes before joining the U.S. Army full time in 1996. He held the rank of major. In May 2004, Father Vakoc's Humvee was hit by a roadside bomb while he was returning to his barracks after saying Mass for soldiers on the 12th anniversary of his ordination. He suffered severe head injuries, including the loss of his left eye and brain damage.

He was transported from Iraq to Germany and then to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, where he remained hospitalized for four months. He was transferred in a near-coma to the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Minneapolis in October 2004.

He underwent several surgeries and was in a minimally responsive state for several months, but finally regained consciousness. He had speech, physical and occupational therapy, and in the last couple of years had become increasingly more able to speak, recognize people and answer questions.

In April 2007, St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity of the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul awarded Father Vakoc with the 2007 Distinguished Alumnus Award. The seminary has presented the award annually since 1994 as a way to recognize alumni "who have lived their vocation in an extraordinary way."

He received a Purple Heart, the Bronze Star Medal and the Combat Action Award. Before he was injured, Father Vakoc had told the National Catholic Register in an e-mail interview: "I live with [the soldiers], work with them, eat with them, care for them, listen to them, counsel them. The soldiers know if you are real and genuinely care for them or not. The bottom line in helping these soldiers through the grieving process is to be present to them and walk with them. "I prayed with the soldiers, I prayed for the soldiers who died. I brought the sacraments of the church and the light and love of Christ into the darkness of the situations," he said.

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.