No Bullet Got Me Yet

The Relentless Faith of Father Kapaun

By John Stansifer

Hanover Square Press, 2024

384 pages, $30

To order

“I am the wheat of God, and let me be ground by the teeth of the wild beasts, that I may be found the pure bread of Christ.” — St. Ignatius of Antioch, “Letter to the Romans”

Martyrs are a rare breed, gifted with the special charism of heroic selflessness. St. Ignatius of Antioch summarized this charism well in the second century when he called himself “the wheat of God.” The willingness to be ground down to the very gates of death so that others might become alive in Christ is a hallmark of the spirit of martyrdom.

Every age raises up a fresh crop of the “wheat of God,” and we’ve been blessed in our country with a growing witness in the cause for canonization of Servant of God Father Emil Kapaun.

Father Kapaun’s story is retold in the new biography No Bullet Got Me Yet by John Stansifer. Stansifer tells the remarkable story of Chaplain Kapaun, a World War II and Korean War chaplain who heroically spent his life in service to the men of the U.S. armed forces.

Part biography, part a view of Father Kapaun through his own writings and writings from fellow soldiers, Stanisfer weaves a profile in courage and heroic virtue that will be loved by secular historians and faithful Catholics alike.

Born into a Bohemian family in the Czech town of Pilsen, Kansas, Kapaun was forged into a hardworking and devout young man. Like the other young men in his community, he spent his days helping out on the family farm, hunting, fishing and getting cleaned up to attend Mass or devotions at his parish, St. John Nepomucene. From an early age, he desired to become a priest and considered life as a missionary.

Following high school, he studied at Conception Abbey and completed his formation at Kenrick-Glennon Seminary in St. Louis. He celebrated his first Solemn High Mass at his parish on June 20, 1940, and was appointed assistant pastor. On Dec. 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor was attacked; and this event, as it did for so many other young men, stirred the heart of Father Kapaun. He desired earnestly to become a U.S. Army chaplain.

Duties at his parish delayed him receiving his bishop’s permission to join the Army Chaplain Corps. He was allowed to become an auxiliary chaplain and served at Harrington Army Airfield from January 1943 to July 1944. Father Kapaun drove more than 100 miles every Sunday to offer the Holy Mass.

In June 1944, his bishop finally permitted him to become a full-fledged U.S. Army chaplain, and he attended chaplain training at Fort Devens that August. His training imparted to him a true ecumenical spirit, as he was trained side by side with other Catholic, Protestant and Jewish clergy. Father Kapaun would foster true friendships with his fellow chaplains and work with them closely for the spiritual benefit of all the men under their care. Chaplain Kapaun knew that his job as a chaplain meant giving the men he served the truth. In a sermon he preached, he said:

“If personal opinion is to guide our lives, then we ought as well throw away all laws, even the laws of God, and proceed to live our lives by personal opinion. There is, however, one serious drawback to this procedure. We have a Master who is checking up on us. And this Master is most strict and exact. He is the one whom the chaplain is trying to represent to the soldiers and officers. That Master is God.”

Following his service in World War II, he studied for a master’s in education at The Catholic University of America. He thought that he could put this education to good use back home by teaching. However, he was keenly aware of the precarious situation in Southeast Asia and returned to military service in November 1948.

Japan was being rebuilt, thanks to Gen. Douglas MacArthur, but the communist threat to the Korean Peninsula was growing. Father Kapaun, like all warm-blooded Americans of the day, recognized the dangerous threat of atheistic communism. MacArthur, as part of his rebuilding agenda for Japan (and all of Southeast Asia), wanted to inject Christianity into the region. He did so via the Armed Forces Radio Network, which featured messages from U.S. Army chaplains. Stationed in Japan in 1950, Father Kapaun spoke on the beatitudes for his April 18 chaplain’s address on the radio:

“O God, give to us this true meekness whereby we will conduct ourselves in the proper manner according to the example of Christ and obtain the land of blessing which was promised to those who are meek. People whose ambitions are confined to the limits of earthly things would be confounded at the beatitude on meekness …”

Demonstrating their godlessness en masse, North Korean forces invaded South Korea on Sunday, June 25, 1950. The beginning of the Korean War became the starting point for Father Kapaun’s final walk to his own Calvary. He was attached to the 1st Cavalry Division aka “First Team.”

South Korean and allied forces were caught unprepared for the onslaught from the North and were pushed to South Korea’s busiest port city. The “Pusan Perimeter” was able to hold the North Koreans off, but they were stuck. Chaplain Kapaun and his men landed 30 miles away on July 18, 1950, facing an enemy eight times their size.

From this point on, through the end of the book, readers learn how — time and time again — Father Kapaun, under enemy fire, was constantly providing the sacraments to the wounded and dying, pulling men to safety despite the risk and serving on the front lines even when he did not have to.

Stanisfer interjects eyewitness testimony and Kapaun’s writings describing his time in combat. Not once, in my reading of this book, did I tire of hearing of Father Kapaun’s heroism — a heroism so consistent that it became ordinary. That’s the greatness of Kapaun: He served with heroic virtue, and virtue can only be attained through consistency.

The story of the picture on the front cover of the book is worth telling and likely happened to Chaplain Kapaun several times. A pipe and cigar smoker (probably his only worldly indulgence), Father Kapaun had this pipe shot out from between his teeth several times.

After one such occasion, he quipped, “No bullet got me yet!”

He picked up his pipe, repaired it with some surgical tape, and continued smoking. His cheerfulness and sense of humor come across so beautifully, especially in the testimony of the men who served with him.

Kapaun found it essential as a chaplain to always put on a smile and to keep his spirits up. With the men around him wading in the blood and guts of combat, they could not be served by a dower and dejected chaplain. His job was to inspire and uplift men who had stared hell in the face and charged bravely into it.

With the entrance of Chinese forces into the war in October 1950, U.S. forces became quickly overwhelmed and were pushed out of North Korea. During the Battle of Unsan (October-November 1950), Chaplain Kapaun, under heavy fire, was able to rescue 40 men. For his actions in combat and bravery above and beyond the call of duty, Father Kapaun was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor in 2013. Father Kapaun was captured and would ascend to the pinnacle of his Calvary as a POW.

The Chinese Communists did not agree to nor abide by the Geneva Convention, which set forth standards of treatment for prisoners of war. They led Father Kapaun and his men on several “death marches” in the dead of winter. GIs who fell behind received a bullet in the head. Chaplain Kapaun carried the wounded and encouraged men to not despair. He quipped with a Catholic soldier in Latin — roughly (and more politely) translated, “Don’t let them get you down!” In the POW camps, he led the men in Sunday services, dug latrines, gave away his food, and scrounged and stole medicine and needed supplies.

In probably the greatest testament to the esteem that all POWs had for Chaplain Kapaun, Maj. Gerald Fink, a Jewish Marine Corps fighter pilot, assembled makeshift chisels and took to clandestinely carving a crucifix for POW Camp 2. Fink had never met Father Kapaun, who had died of pneumonia on May 23, 1951, but had heard about the tenacity and relentless virtue of the Catholic priest. Fink completed the cross — called “Christ in Barbed Wire” — and it hung, miraculously undisturbed by the communist soldiers, until the armistice of 1953-54. Fink disassembled the crucifix and managed to bring it home, along with a ciborium in Father Kapaun’s Mass kit and his helmet liner marked with the white chaplain’s cross.

Father Kapaun’s remains were identified and returned home in September 2021. His casket rested in his home parish on Sept. 25 and the Mass of Christian Burial was held at Hartman Arena in Wichita, Kansas, on that Sept. 29. His mortal remains rest in the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Wichita. His cause for canonization is ongoing. It is up to Rome to determine if he qualifies for the designation of martyrdom in odium fidei (although this author believes so). However, the case put forward in No Bullet Got Me Yet makes it clear that Father Kapaun served God and country as the “wheat of God” ground into the “pure bread of Christ.”

LEARN MORE

Learn more about the cause of Servant of God Father Emil Kapaun, visit FrKapaun.org.