 The theater presents Joan Leslie and Stephen McNally. The broadcasting system in cooperation with Family Theater brings you Stephen McNally, as the star of The Bed Was Four Hearts, Joan Leslie. Catterdon, Family Theater's purpose is to promote family prayer, in the belief that prayer is the most powerful force at man's command, and as such must be given a place in our hearts and homes, in our times and in our world. And now to our drama. The Bed Was Four Hearts, starring Stephen McNally as the narrator. Friends, I'm going to tell you a story. A story of four American chaplains. Four chaplains who, in the early hours of a February morning, made a strong and beautiful bed. Chaplain Clark Pulling, North. I'll pass. Chaplain John Washington, East. I'll bid four clubs. Chaplain George Fox, South. I'll pass. I'll pass. Chaplain Alexander Good, West. I'll bid four hearts. Four men. Two Protestant ministers, one Jewish rabbi, one Catholic priest. Four men made a bed. And the great whole nation will remember this night and for all time, that the bed was four hearts. You were sleeping, those cold February night friends. You were sleeping quietly. And while you were sleeping, the big gray shadows were out in the water. Convoy, they call it. Convoy moving in the night. Carrying men and material for the United Nations. Convoy stepping cautiously over gray waters that are treacherous, separatist. Below the deck of the troop transport Dorchester, four chaplains are sitting in offices for us. And suddenly there's a knock on the door. Is that the chaplain's quarters? Oh, step right in, Jimmy. Oh, it's nice and warm down here. If you ask me, chaplains, this Nord Atlantic ain't so hot. I'm standing out there on deck looking for submarines of water like Jack. Oh, what do you get, Jimmy? I get my nose from. Oh, by the way, gentlemen, I'd like to meet on you orderly. Jimmy, this is Chaplain Good. I just do. Glad to know you, Jimmy. And this is Chaplain Fox. And over here, Chaplain Pulling. Glad to know you. Where's the matches? Oh, I got a order all fixed up nice at Fighter Washington. But what I want to know is who follows who in the jake services? Well, I'm saying Mass at 7 o'clock, Jimmy. Oh, I know that, Father, but what I want to know is does the Jewish service follow you or is it Protestant? Well, perhaps Chaplain Pulling might explain. Well, if you don't mind, Jimmy, you can arrange the order for Protestant services after Chaplain Washington says Mass. I get you. Is that agreeable to you, Chaplain Good? Perfectly, all right with me. I'm holding my service at 6. If it doesn't make any difference to Chaplain Fox. No, not at all. No, no, let me get it straight. In other words, Chaplains, first it's a Jewish service at 6 o'clock with no cross, and the order turn around, right? Right. Then it's a Catholic service at 7 o'clock with the cross, and the order turn around out of way, right? That's right. Then it's a Protestant service with, let me see, going out of way again, right? Right. And then, you know, Chaplains, does it be a heck of a lot easier for me if you can only get together sometimes? The convoy moved steadily to the north, and now that they were approaching Greenland, the escort destroyers were beginning to tighten their screening lines. The destroyers were getting nervous now, and a certain skipper was getting nervous too. It's a blackest pitch out there tonight, Jackson. Yes, sir. Any other reports? You mean about the submarines? Yeah. No, sir, there's nothing. Let's see the charts. Here you are, sir. Getting pretty close to Greenland, we're riding deep in Germany's north Atlantic submarine zone. With a wind like this in our face, a submarine can do funny things. And these were the sounds that night. The large sounds of wind and waves, the small friendly sounds of light boats swinging on the davits, the muffled gray sound of boots keeping vigil on the bridge. And then the night gets very quiet in the north Atlantic. It gets very quiet in a dark cabin. A chaplain has time to lie in his bunk. And remember, chaplain polling was remembering that night. Chaplain polling, they call me. Chaplain. Somehow in this dark room, the memory of that first fear comes back to me now. I remember how you looked at me, Dad, when I, your young minister, opened the door that day. What's the matter, Clark? Dad, I'm no good. I'm a failure. What's the trouble? A man's dying, Dad, now, and I... I can't help him. Did you try? Yes. But I just couldn't help him. Maybe you tried too much, Clark. What do you mean, Dad? I mean, did you give God a chance? Well, I... I... Now you go back, son. Go back to that man. And remember, you're nothing but an instrument in God's hands. I'll never forget that, Dad. Never. An instrument in His hands. That's all you are, Clark polling. Dear God, help me always to be Your instrument. And... and watch over Corky and Thumper and Dad. Watch over Betty and all of us tonight. We had time that night for remembering. And always the memories ran straight to home. A young rabbi was remembering that night. Chaplain, good they call me. Funny, lying here in this cabin. I wonder why. And yet I don't wonder why. I know the reason. I suppose the reason could go back to a day in French class. I'm thinking of you now, Therese, my lovely wife. Do you remember how you looked that first day I spoke to you? Back at Eastern. We were just kids. Mind if I sit next to you, Miss Flanks? No. I forgot my French book. I thought maybe I might look on with someone. I see. This is the second time you forgot your French book, Mr. Good. I know. I might forget it tomorrow, too. Yes, we were very young. But even then, I knew I wanted to be near you, Therese. Always. I wanted to be near everything that's good. I wanted to be happy. I guess that's it in a nutshell. Wanting to be happy. Everyone wants to be happy. Everyone. Oh, God, my Father. Look down on us tonight. Look down on Rosalie and Rue and Ethel. And my wife, Therese. And God, help us all. Help all men to find ultimate happiness. Yes, there was time for remembering about a troop transport. And while men were remembering, the convoy was moving north. Another day came, another day passed. It was an entertainment. He used to sing some funny songs. He used to sing those songs until one day the chaplain hired him. And the chaplain didn't like them songs. Butch was singing. So he walks up to Butch, who was playing a piano. And he says, young man, do you know the ten commandments? Butch looked at the chaplain and scratched his head and said, you got me there, buddy. But if you whistle a couple of... Those were the sounds that night, friends. There was silence, too, later. A silence that always returned the night. And left a man alone with his remembering. Chaplain Fox was remembering that night. Chaplain Fox, they call me. They weren't too sure of me the first time they saw me. I remember how they looked when they asked me the questions. You're a Methodist minister? Yes, sir. George Fox, born in Lewiston, Pennsylvania. In 1900, is it? Yes, sir. Oh, 1900. Don't you think you're a bit old for army service, sir? Oh, I don't think so, sir. Quite a rigorous life, you know. Yes, I suspect that, sir. I suppose you also know that a chaplain's life will be far different from, shall we say, the congenial surroundings of a parish in Vermont. I quite understand, sir. I wonder if you quite understand. Oh, I think I understand war, if that's what you mean. You do understand war? Yes, sir. So many people think they do. Well, I was engaged in active duty with the Second Division in World War I. Wounded in combat, sir. Received a Purple Heart, Silver Star, and Quadra Gap. With palms, sir. And I also have a son who is a Marine in this war, sir. Yes, yes, of course. You see, I think I do understand war, sir. Naturally. Naturally. You laughed when I told you that, Mary Elizabeth. Yes, I'd like to see the sun shining again in Billman, Vermont, Lord. I'd love to see it again. The sun shine and hills. And Mary Elizabeth and Wyatt. And you, my wife. Yes, it will be a great day, Lord, when this old fox can come home to all his cubs again. The big gray ships were still moving north. And the slow procedure on the high seas was being written on the lock. But there were some things that were not written on the lock. Jimmy, the chaplain's orderly was shining candlesticks that afternoon. Someone knocked. Well, what can I tell for you, Sergeant? I was looking for one of the chaplains. Oh, the chaplains is busy. What do you want? Well, it's about a letter I wrote to my girlfriend. Girlfriend? Yeah. Well, for crying out loud, what do you want the chaplain's for? Well, it's... Oh, I get you. You mean you want a little help, sort of, huh? Yeah, that's right. I don't know spelling so good. Well, why don't you say so in a face, please? Here, give me the letter, and I'll give it the OK for you, Sergeant. Here. And be careful. It took me three hours to do it. All right, I see. There, touch. Touch, Sergeant? Is that her name? Well, that's what I call her. Sergeant, you know that touch is no name for a self-respectful dame. She was baptized, wasn't she? Well, I... Yeah, I guess so. Well, baptism is a sacrament, in case you don't know that, Sergeant. Yeah? So call her by her baptismal name, see? OK. OK, now what is your baptismal name? Marcella. Oh, that's a nice name, Sergeant. I don't know, I'll write it down for you. M-A. Now, just for the fun of it, how would you spell it, my solid, Sergeant? You've got me. Gonna marry this name, Sergeant? You bet I am when I get back. Is she a good girl? Good? You know what I mean. Well, sure, she's good. What do you mean? I tell you, Sergeant, that the only kind of a girl we're coming home to is a good girl. The chaplains will tell you the same thing. Yes, the chaplains will tell you. The chaplains told you many things. And in the quiet hours, the chaplain has time to tell himself something. Chaplain Washington, they call me. The older boys call me Father John. It was a time when I thought I'd never get quite used to being called Father. And times when I wondered what it meant to be a priest. What has it meant to be a priest? Well, being a priest means many things. It means you, Lord. The eyes and lips and mouth of you. Speaking again, those words overbred in wine. That's my mass. My priesthood is you, Lord. And the long hours of the confessional. That's the way you wanted it, Lord. Whose sins you shall loose. That's what you said. Well, I have lost. I have liberated. Oh, my good God. A sinner have lifted my hand in absolution. Yes, it's many things being a priest. It's the babies I've washed clean with your baptism. The boys and girls I have fed with the bread of life. The young men and women I have made one in the lasting bonds of your marriage. It's the weary heads and hands I have touched with the strong oils of your extreme option. Oh, gentle Christ, thanks for all this. And especially thanks for her. Mom, I see your lovely face in this dark room. And I'm remembering a morning long ago in the kitchen. I was trying to break the news to you. Oh, John, what seems to be troubling you? Mom, would it make much difference if... if... Well, I mean... Oh, you mean you want to go away to be a priest? Yes. Sure, and didn't I know it all the while? It'll mean a lot of work and worry for you, Mom. I mean all the kids at home and everything. Oh, John, what greater blessings could I work and worry for than to see you someday? Oh, John, I used to dream about seeing the son of my inner priest. I dreamed... Oh, I guess I dreamed it a thousand times or more, even when you were that small, John. I dreamed of the great day when I could look up and say, There he is. There he is. My own father, John. The way you said it, Mom, over a little house tonight and south 12th Street. Look over my mother. She pulled cautiously all that day against high seas. And when nights settled down again in the... in the North Atlantic, four chaplains were tired. So they relaxed around a table. I said casual things. You're a bit pulling. They weren't thinking about the great waters now. I'll pass, Washington. They were merely looking at cars. I'll bid four clubs. Making small, pleasant calculations. Yes, I'll bid. And then... I'll see. And I think... I'll bid four hearts. Stand by. All hands alert. Submarines contacted. Gun crews in position. All hands, prepare for emergency. Stand by. Further words, stand by. You forgot the bridge game. You forgot the overturned chair. The sweater you left lying in the edge of your bonk. You forgot the hundred details. Like the letter you were writing, the shoe you were shining, yes. You may even forget your life jacket. You stood on a cold deck. You stood there, staring out into the dark. Waiting. Waiting like a man in a dark room. Keep staring out over the rail. You just couldn't believe it. Out there, under those wild cold waters, men were waiting for you. Timing. Measuring. Two hours. And gradually relaxed. He breathed again. Ah, you were normal again. After all, someone could be mistaken. It'd be a false alarm. Took one more look over the rail. Walked slowly back to the state room. Watched some of the fellas for a minute. Walked over to the bar and sat down. Ah, ran your fingers through your hair. Searched for a cigarette. Found it. Ah, lay back in your bunk. Sure, that's what it was. Just a false alarm. But it was fish that was coming. Stand by. A tiger shot it. It spotted you. Here it comes. My friends, let it be said quietly. Let it be said without the noise and confusion of men jumping over the side of a stricken ship. Let's be said without the shouting of boys as they watch the cold sea come up to meet them in the dark. Let us only say that the Dorchester was gaping with a wound from which she would never heal. Right now, it's getting more quiet. The lifeboats are pulling slowly away. The Dorchester's settling gradually. Four chaplains strapped in their life jackets standing on the deck of that stricken ship. Are you okay, Pauline? Fine, Washington. How about you, Rabbi? So far, so good. And you, Fox? I'm all right. She's going fast. All the lifeboats are gone. We've got most of the fellows over the side. Wait a minute. Look at that kid. I can't die. I can't die. Take it easy, son. Where's your life jacket? I lost it. I can't die, chaplains. I can't. He lost his life jacket. Look, over there. Three more kids without their life jackets. Son, listen, son. Pay attention to me. Yes, sir. Can you swim, son? No, no, sir. Can your buddy swim? No. None of us can swim. And we're afraid, sir. Afraid to go over the side. I understand. No life jackets. Well, chaplains? Yes, you're right. Of course. It's the only way. I'll take this, lad, father. If you and Pauline... And this boy's mine. Here, son. Quickly. Stand up straight. All right, lad. Raise your arms. No, higher. Higher. You're going to be all right, son. I'm a merchant seaman. I saw it. We all saw it. We saw four chaplains give their own life jackets that men who didn't have any. When our life boat drifted away, we saw the chaplains kneeling together on a slanting deck. They were kneeling like that when the ship went down. Yes, the... The bed was four hearts. It was the complete, the ultimate bed a man can make. The bed was four human hearts. What will be our bed tonight, friends? Will we be honest with ourselves for one moment this night? Will we search our individual hearts and come up with the beautiful answer? The answer we know is right. Will we sit at the broad table of this our beloved land and play the game according to the rules him who is the eternal God and father of all mankind? What say you player on the north? What say you player on the south? What say you players on the east and west? Will we look tonight into the eyes of our fellow man whoever he may be and bid a portion of old pride stale prejudice or ancient hate? Will we remember that night of February 3rd, 1943 when a ship went down 90 miles south of Greenland? Will we remember that moment when the ship was poised for that final plunge? That moment when the miracle of man's love for his fellow man converted us the great deck once and forever into a great altar from which four men offered their gallant souls to God? Will we hear a story like this one that extols the magnificent courage of such men as the four great chaplains? We may wonder for a moment as to the source of such admirable bravery. It isn't surprising to realize that men who live by prayer men who perpetually place their well-being in the hands of an all-knowing and all-loving God are unfailingly rewarded with the courage necessary to meet and accept their problem be it of great magnitude or be it one of those bothersome everyday little problems that arise to annoy us although everyone finds it an easy matter to pray when the skies are darkest and in the face of trouble all agree that prayer under these circumstances never fails to prove a source of comfort and aid Strange to say though many of us often overlook the comfort that can be derived from just plain everyday prayer family prayer that comfort, that happiness that comes from prayer rendered in time of great distress can prove just as great a source of help in the solving of our less important daily problems When you stop and think about it the most logical time for prayer is really when things are going smoothest Prayer of Thanksgiving is a worthy and valued tribute to the good God that made all happiness possible There's an unlimited source of courage and happiness that can be gained by everyone everywhere simply for the asking The family that prays together stays together More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of Peter Beigren, Charles Seal, Stan Waxman, Tudor Owen, Jim Nussar, Robert O'Sullivan Sarah Selby, Tom Holland, Fran Lindsay, Glenn Vernon and Michael Hayes The script was dramatized by Timothy J. Mulvay from Portions of the Book by Captain L. Wood C. Nance Faith of Our Fighters Music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and the program was directed by Joseph F. Mansfield Family Theater was transcribed in the Hollywood Studios Virtual Broadcasting System